Souls and Shadows
by Ganaroth Les
Summary: Ranma, Akane, and the others must stand against forces of darkness both from within and without. As the world burns, and Angels and Demons do battle in the heavens, can anything be saved? Even their own souls may fall before the end. Format now corrected!
1. Prologue

Prologue: What Came To Pass

War was coming to the village of Yarrow. The traders, traveling between the myriad villages that populated this region of what was once known as the state of Washington, had been bringing word of it for months, word carried from the south and east of what was called North America, and now called divided up into villages, and city-states and petty fiefdoms. Information was hard to come by these days, and was usually badly distorted after a few tellings, but when so many rumors all claimed the same thing, the village elders knew that it was most likely the truth. Indisputably, War was coming.

A rider had barreled through the center of town only moments before, bellowing that the first distortions had been seen on the horizon. There was, apparently, no weapons fire yet, although that would inevitably come. Across Yarrow, parents quietly tucked away their children into the dugout shelters underneath their homes, shouldered their own weapons, and went out to meet the invaders. The elders looked on sadly, having themselves an inkling of the futility of resistance. Some among their number could remember the tales of their grandfathers, of when the word 'War' meant the clash of armies; great masses of troops coming into conflict, tearing each other asunder. Or, more recently, of when it meant The Great War, the war between the gods, when the old order of the world fell and left as survivors only those tough enough to endure the hardships of life in a disintegrating world. Those of the younger generations, though, they only knew these tales second or third hand. They were not real; not in the way that the rain and the sun and the great Sound were.

In these days, War was a man.

And the people of Yarrow didn't truly understand what it must have taken to change the meaning of that word. And so they shouldered their weapons; hunting rifles, some handguns, and even a few ancient assault rifles passed down from their forebears. They donned cobbled-together suits of armor made from stiffened leather or half-rotted Kevlar, and as one they marched out to defend their home.

* * *

At the outskirts of town, a lone scout lay in the woods near the top of the hill, and watched the column of invaders approach through his precious pair of ancient binoculars. There weren't many of them, really. Certainly, they didn't match the numbers of the villagers. And they didn't have the intimate knowledge of the terrain that the Yarrow villagers had, and they weren't fighting in defense of their families...

He sighed in disgust. Useless advantages, those. He peered through the binoculars again; looked closers at them. In contrast to the makeshift equipment worn by the defenders, these soldiers appeared almost insectile inside their suits of tactical armor. It was sleek, matte black, and almost painfully high-tech. Their faces were obscured behind the sensor visors of their helmets, and the scout knew for a fact that the spear-like weapons they carried could fire a lance of heat capable of melting rock. He'd seen it happen before, years ago, on a journey to Angel City, far to the south. It was the last time he'd ever gone there.

They rode on hoverdisks. There were five disks for the troops, each of them carrying ten soldiers, an absurd number. Only the wealthiest of merchants could afford more than one disk, though they were certainly worth the cost. He cursed under his breath as he saw the telltale distortion in the air that signaled the presence of air shields. He dropped his own large-caliber hunting rifle in disgust. It would be useless until the shields were dropped. By then it would be too late. All this was more confirmation that he had been right when he forbid his daughter his daughter to hide with the other children. Instead, she lay behind him, sheltered by the swell of the hill, well out of the conflict that was to come, occasionally kicking stones out of boredom. Even events such as these could only occupy the nine-year old mind for so long. So unlike her brother, who had demanded to take part in the village's defense, despite his father's objections, and, because he was of age, had gotten his way. Now all the scout could do was pray for his safety.

He turned momentarily to gaze at the Tower. The stone monstrosity covered half the village in its shadow in the evening. The home of the resident god, Shiil, it was without a doubt the target of the invaders. He'd heard of War before; it was said that the man traveled across the world seeking out the remnants of the gods, and executing them. His motivations for doing so remained unclear, but he was said to be unmerciful with those humans he found sheltering a god.

Looking back at the column, he now focused on the sixth, smaller hoverdisk at the front of the column. They were closer now, and when viewed through the binoculars, the features of the man standing upon it were thrown into sharp relief.

He was tall, although not markedly so. About six foot, and obviously fit, although his form was concealed beneath a black robe. His hair was long; worn all the way down to his waist, and as black as his robe or the armor of his soldiers. His eyes were concealed behind a pair of round sunglasses, and his face was set in an expression of moderate boredom.

The rumors about those glasses: that they were sensors of incredible sensitivity, and allowed the wearer to see with perfect acuity out to the horizon. Some even said that with them, he could see through solid objects, or even into the souls of his enemies. There were nearly as many stories about his apparent youth; for all that he appeared to be a man no older than his mid-twenties not even the longest lived of the elders could remember a time when his name was not spoken. Some said that he consumed the souls of the gods he slew in order to maintain this immortality. Others said the souls he devoured were more mortal in nature.

The scout discounted none of these rumors. After all, when dealing with War, it seemed best to be cautious.

As the column moved forward, one of the soldiers, with a marking of rank upon his shoulder, diffidently moved behind the left shoulder of the man who stood, arms clasped behind his back, at the head of their number. His voice was quiet, and uncertain as he spoke. "Lord War... The sensors indicate that we are being observed. It is most likely only a single scout; the main body of the villagers is still marching toward our head. Shall..."

War answered, in a voice just as soft, but considerably calmer than his underling. "I have been aware of him for some time. He poses no danger to us, no more than the villagers do. He is carrying an old H&K SLB2000, chambered for .308. It will not be able to penetrate your armor, much less the air shields."

Beneath his helmet, the young officer paled at the tone of rebuke in his masters voice. In his time with War, he had never seen the man punish anyone for something so trivial, but when punishment was handed out, it was not to be forgotten quickly.

War gave a small, rare smile. "Your vigilance does you credit. I will remember this when it comes time for payment. Now, return to your station; the villagers are approaching. I think that we will begin with the usual methods."

Nodding in relief, the officer did so.

* * *

The villagers were beginning to have second thoughts. True, this was their land that they were defending, and the homes passed down by their forebears from the time when you could still see the city of S'Tol across the Lake. And Lord Shiil had always told them that they must defend themselves against all invaders. But still...

This was no bandit, or petty Feudal Lord come to claim their belongings. They could have dealt with that as they had so many times in the past. Lord Shiil could have swept aside that kind without even trying. No, this was War: a figure that had ingrained itself into the souls of every man woman and child in the world.

And Lord Shiil was conspicuously absent from the battlefield.

They watched nervously as the column approached. More than one among them felt a trembling in their knees, and was only prevented from running by the thought of the shame that would be inflicted upon them. Almost as one, they raised their weapons, and took aim. Closer... closer...

Finally, the patience of the crowd snapped. One among them, brash young man of seventeen summers screamed a yell of defiance. "Fire!" he bellowed, as his finger, along with a hundred others, pulled on the trigger of his weapon.

There was only silence. Not a single one of the weapons had functioned. With growing panic, the villagers tried again and again, with the same results. The guns, carefully maintained and serviced for generations, would not fire.

War stepped down from his disk, the air shield lowering as he did so. His mouth was twisted into a bored smile. "People of the village of Yarrow. You know who I am. Now step aside; my business is not with you."

With that, he stepped into their midst, noting with some disdain the fearful reactions of the crowd as they attempted to back away from him. All but the youth, who gave a strangled cry, unsheathed a hunting knife, a nine-inch length of simple steel, and rushed towards him.

_Ah. So it is to be one of these..._thought War.

None of the soldiers made a move. They understood what their roles were in this situation. They simply observed, as War allowed the boy within twenty feet, fifteen, ten... And then, with a contemptuous flick of his wrist, four chains, tipped with sharp blades sprang from the voluminous sleeve of his robe. They moved with impossible precision as they wound themselves about the boy's arms and legs, bearing him to the ground.

* * *

The scout cursed as he watched his only son attempted to rush the black-robed figure. Stupid boy, what did he hope to accomplish by this? Then, he heard the rustle of brush the signified his daughters' exit, and belatedly realized that she must have seen it as well. He rose to follow her.

* * *

War sighed as the youth struggled. "This boy disobeyed me. His punishment will remind the rest of you not to do the same." He gave another flick of his wrist, and flickering bolts of lightning danced their way down the chains. The boy began to scream, and he writhed in pain, arching his back so far that it was a wonder that he didn't break his own back. Some of the villagers groaned as this boy they all knew, who had worked the fields alongside them, who had caught fish in their lake, who always been known a friendly, if somewhat foolish person, seemed to scream his very soul away in their midst.

Just as it seemed that the pain of one they knew would break the spell of fear War had cast over them, the soldiers moved. With practiced ease, they forced themselves between the villagers and their leader, herding them at the point of their spears into a large, rough circle.

Finally, the screams subsided. The soul-wracking cries of pain faded to subdued whimpering, and his maddened writhing ceased, aside from the occasional spasmodic twitch as nerves randomly fired throughout his body. The chains, apparently of their own volition, unwound themselves from his body, and retreated back into the recesses of the black robe. War looked about himself calmly, staring into the eyes of the villagers, who were half-mad with fright. "He will live, although he will likely have trouble walking very far on his own from now on. He'll have shaking limbs and weak muscles like an old man. Hopefully, he has family that will be willing to care for him. Now..." His gaze moved toward the tower of Shiil. "Men, keep the villagers here. I don't want anyone sneaking up behind me." With that, he began walking, taking no notice of the cries of a little girl as she rushed up to cradle the fallen form of her elder brother.

A soldier, young and unranked, nudged one of his rather more experienced fellows. "Hey... Is it all right to just let him go alone like that? I mean, I know this isn't the first god that he's killed, but shouldn't we give him some backup?" His voice betrayed a certain amount of worry over the source of his income.

The other responded. "He'll be fine. The power readings on this one are fairly low. A jumped-up Lieutenant or a Lord that's let his power slide into the dregs. It's nothing to worry about. Our job is to keep the rabble in line. Heh. My dad told me some tales about a couple of times when he _did_ have to fight alongside Lord War. He was there for the Paris Ruins campaign."

The first soldier whistled softly. "Fate preserve us from something like that..."

* * *

War came to the top of the hill, upon which stood the Tower of Shiil. It was obviously not of human construction. Except in rare cases, in the more advanced city-states and at Phoenix Mountain, humans simply didn't make things like this anymore. It was ugly, brutish and squat despite it's height, and dreadfully out of place amidst the pastoral surroundings of Yarrow. And within, War knew, lay one who refused to admit how out of place he was.

He strode up to the massive gates of the tower, and called out. "Shadow Lord Shiil..." It was perhaps a bit of flattery; Shiil was only marginally powerful enough to deserve that title. "I give you this one chance to give yourself up to a swift death at my hands. I promise that it will be quite painless."

There was no answer. There never was. War nodded to himself, satisfied that his offer had been heard. He Changed.

The armor, which formed over him, was superficially similar to that which his soldiers wore. It was just as black, and just as high tech in appearance, but while his soldiers looked vaguely insectile, War looked like nothing other than himself. It was bladed across the helm, forearms and fingers. Spikes jutted out at the elbows. Black, non-metallic plates whispered across each other as he moved. His round lenses had altered their shape, becoming part of the sinister visor that hid his face, and his long hair had become a tassel hanging to his waist from the top of his helm.

He moved forward, grasped the iron gate of Shiil's Tower; a massive thing that must have weighed five or six tons, and, one handed, tore it from its hinges.

* * *

"...And that's the long and short of what happened at Paris Ruins," concluded the soldier, happy to have someone to tell the tale to. "Four Shadow Lords, fifteen Lieutenants, and who knows how many Soldiers. Took the better part of eight months for Lord War and his men to clean up, but once he's set, he doesn't give up no matter how long it takes." The other soldiers nodded.

The crash of iron at the Tower caused most of those present their to turn towards it. A cloud of dust was settling about fifty feet away from it, where the gate had been flung. "Well..." drawled the soldier. "Looks like he's getting started."

By the fallen youth, the scout's young, red-haired daughter glared daggers at them both.

* * *

War was assaulted almost immediately upon stepping through the threshold, just as expected. Shadow Lords used predictable tactics; overwhelming force at first, attempting to cow the enemy into submission, followed by guerrilla style hit-and-run if this failed to eliminate the enemy. He's seen it hundreds of times before.

A cascade of energy beams lanced through the air towards him, ionizing the air with their passing. Some struck the stone around him, causing it to melt and run like butter left outside on a hot day. Most struck his armor, and simply glanced off. War didn't bother dodging. With energy levels this low, it wasn't worth the effort. He continued walking, his visor examining the area in detail, attempting to find his quarry.

_Ah... There you are_. With no warning, War shot forward with blinding speed, his fingerblades open, swiping at the figure he had just glimpsed through his sensors. Expecting it to be over that quickly, he was startled to find his attack passing through the already fading image of his opponent. _Hmmm. So, an Illusionist as well. And fairly skilled, if he can fool my sensors._ His mind tightened with remembered pain. _But if he thinks to defeat me with illusion... _He rushed toward the stairs, following the faint sounds he heard ascending them. His footsteps were heavy with tightly controlled, bitter anger.

As soon as he reached the second floor, he sighed. Seven identical images awaited him. All of them appeared as classical demons, huge, clawed and bat-winged. They laughed as he skidded to a halt. _Oh, for pity's sake...Skilled, but not intelligent._

"So," thundered the Shiils, "You seek to face me in my lair, do you? I shall teach you the price..."

He never got farther. War's sensors had already located the eighth, far smaller figure hiding invisibly near the upper corner of the room, to the left of the door where he had entered. With a sigh, he materialized a few chains, which wrapped around his prey and dragged him close. Shiil yelped as the bladed metal bit into his flesh, and bereft of his concentration, the images disappeared. War stepped over to look at him. Shiil appeared to be nothing more frightening in appearance than a wizened old man with greenish skin and pointed teeth. He writhed pathetically attempting to escape. Finally, as War stepped near, Shiil unleashed a massive bolt of energy from his mouth.

The explosion ripped throughout the tower, nearly shaking it down. A chunk of the wall twice the height of a man was ripped away, falling to the ground outside of the tower. Shiil cackled with glee as the chains loosened. "Ha! That should teach you to confront Shiil in his... urk!" His laughter was abruptly caught off as bladed fingers wrapped around his neck. As the smoke from the blast cleared away, he could clearly see War standing before him, armor undamaged by the colossal energies of the blast. His eyes widened, and he collapsed into a terrified heap. "Why... why are you doing this? I can feel your power! You're a Shadow Lord, just as I am! Why are you so bent on destroying one of your own kind?" His entreaties were becoming more desperate, and finding it difficult to make it past the constricting force applied to his throat. "I wasn't causing any harm, I wasn't! I was just trying to survive out here, away from everyone but this little village. I even protected it! What did I do to deserve this?"

War was silent for a moment. This was the first time any of his prey had asked him 'why?' "It doesn't matter what you did. This is about what you are, and what your kind took from me. I am not a Shadow Lord, though my power comes from the same source. I cannot rest until the last of your damned kind is wiped from the Earth. Only then will I forget what you did to her..." His voice became soft, near the end, and his head tilted upward, as if he were peering into the distance.

Shiil whimpered in sudden realization. "You... you are him! You are Mou..." His exclamation was brutally cut off as War's grip tightened, and his gaze once more focused upon him.

War spoke, slowly and deliberately. "That name died, along with man who bore it, a very long time ago. Now there is only War." His grip closed, and one more dark soul fled screaming into the abyss.

Then, he Changed back, wiped his bloody hand on the clothes of his enemy, and walked back to the village of Yarrow.

* * *

By the time he reached the village, the sun was already beginning to dip below the horizon. He nodded toward his men, who immediately broke ranks and began to board their disks once again. As he walked toward his own disk, he heard the voice of a young girl brokenly demand of him "Why?"

He turned toward her, more out of curiosity than anything else. This was, after all, the second time this day that he'd been asked this question, though he really had no intention of answering. The girl's father, a man in hunter's gear, was already attempting to silence her. He prepared to turn away, when out of the corner of his eye, the rays of the setting sun caught her hair, turning it from red to an almost violet hue. War froze, staring silently at the girl. His soldiers looked at each other in confusion.

Emboldened by the lack of immediate reprisal, the girl demanded again, "Why did you come here? Why did you have to hurt my brother? What did we ever do to you?" Her tears were flowing freely now, but she refused to look away from him.

The set of her jaw... the anger in her eyes... A thousand memories long hidden away came flooding back in an instant. He stepped towards her, and was faintly pleased that she did not step back. A mere pace from her, he stopped, and looked down at her solemnly. A moment passed, and then he spoke.

"Do you really wish to hear the tale?"

A murmur ran through his soldiers. Never, in any of their careers had Lord War ever offered to share the story of his past with them. None of them had ever dared ask more than once.

The girl nodded fiercely, her eyes filled with hate. "Yes! I want to know why you came here."

War nodded in return. "Then I'll tell you my story. You may be disappointed in it; after all, I do not possess a starring role. My part, as ever, is that of a secondary character, playing a supporting role to two who's lives shook heaven, hell, and earth." He paused for a moment, as if to gather his thoughts, and then continued. "It begins, after a fashion, more than two hundred years ago, back in the days when the entire face of the earth was covered in great nations, and men thought that the gods were either made up, or dead, or absent. As for the place... my life does not begin there, but the story, yes. The story begins there. In Nerima."

And again he paused, and stared off into the distant past. To a time and place when he wore a robe of white, and spectacles of thick glass, and lived, and fought, and loved a beautiful woman with all his heart.

Ganaroth Les Presents

A Ranma ½ Fanfiction

Souls and Shadows.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma ½, or the characters associated with it. They are the products of the mind of Ms. Rumiko Takahashi, in whose garden I feel privileged to play. But heck, if you for some reason DO think that I own Ranma ½... Please send me money.

Disclaimer 2: A word about Anglicization. I live in the United States, and do not speak a word of Japanese, other than a very few select ones such as "Sayonara," "Ohayo," and, of course, "Baka." These words will not be used here because I do in fact have some standards. I also know very little about Japanese culture, and amusingly enough what I do know has come primarily from reading the Ranma ½ Manga and fanfiction of all kinds. You can imagine then, how slanted and skewed my vision of it must be. However, I am quite familiar with the English language, and with American culture. As such, they form the basis of this work. I decided that instead of trying to pretend that I know anything about Japanese by sprinkling words and phrases here and there, that I would instead not use them at all. Family names are going to come after individual ones. Honorifics will be in the English form, i.e.: "Lord" instead of "Sama," "Mister" instead of "San," "Sis" instead of "Neechan" and so forth. If this is a problem, please feel free to substitute Japanese honorifics where appropriate. Swearwords will likewise be in English. Once, again, when Ranma curses, as he is wont to do, just imagine that he is using the nearest Japanese equivalent.

By the same token however, I won't have him chomping on a hot dog, drinking a Budweiser and commenting on the latest Yankees game. Standards again.

Souls and Shadows

Part One: A Door Once Opened.

Chapter 1

In the ward of Nerima, in the city of Tokyo, Japan, there was an empty lot. Few remembered or cared about the construction project that had once dictated its creation, and fewer still cared to press the matter. In the past few years, it had been taken up by a select group of the local population for use as a training yard, dueling ground, and general purpose meeting place. As a result, the more normal sectors of Nerima's inhabitants most often refused to walk within several blocks of it, on the off chance that they might be struck by flying debris. It should then be taken as implicit that the young man sitting silently atop a neatly stacked pile of discarded lumber was far from normal. Were the observer a visitor, however, the only clue that this was so would have been the breeze. As it flowed through the lot, it picked up a few fallen leaves and bits of discarded paper and dashed them against what obstacles it could find. None struck the young man however. If one watched long enough, one would become certain that the breeze did not touch him at all, indeed it moved aside for him, as if fearful of what might happen were he disturbed.

He was eighteen, or thereabouts, although he often appeared younger to those who knew him. His hair was black, and rather unruly, although some attempt to tame it had been made by gathering it up into a pigtail. His build was average to the casual glance; not quite six feet tall, and neither skinny, nor heavy, nor bulky. Only upon closer inspection would one see that under his red silk shirt, his muscles stood out as rigidly defined as a granite statue. If he had deigned to move, it would not have seemed out of place to think of the sound of a fine steel blade whistling through the air. But he simply sat, unmoving, eyes closed, and mind focused on the events of the past three months.

In the mind of Ranma Saotome, a storm of fire and ice raged. It had been building for some time now, and was still not truly in the throws of its full might. It had begun... When? At the wedding perhaps, when he had suddenly woken up to find himself dressed in a ridiculous white tuxedo, and his idiot father telling him that he was to be married right that instant. And, angry at being forced along into something like this, he went charging of to find Akane, who could always be counted to back him up on THIS subject, only to find...

Only to find her in a wedding dress, not looking ridiculous at all somehow, and ready to fulfill the engagement that had been made two years previous. He had looked at her, and for an instant everything had been right. Then he had asked... "Why?"

And she had replied, "You love me, don't you?"

As if he could have answered a question like that. But no, that was not the beginning of the storm. After all, that question wouldn't have been asked if it wasn't for what came before. China. Mt. Phoenix. Saffron. Memories of pain, and fire, and loss, and hope regained.

Ranma had, by and large, refused to speak about his experience fighting the God-King of Mt. Phoenix. He might be more willing to do so, he thought, if he understood more about what had happened. Saffron was an opponent completely unlike anything he had ever fought before; graceless, artless, almost completely lacking in even the fundamentals of combative skill. But in the place of those things... Power, like an endless sea of fire, like all the flames of the sun gathered into one place. Tenacity, a refusal to give up that had crossed the line into madness. And an arrogance so towering that it dwarfed his mountain home by comparison.

Of course, he had reason to be arrogant. Ranma had very nearly died at his hands, reduced to ashes by Saffron's deific anger. Akane had nearly...

Ranma's closed fists clenched in an involuntary spasm, bringing with them the still unaccustomed pull of the burn scars that rippled across his forearms, twitched as he fought back the stream of memories. He had come to this point in his mind several times over the past few hours, and had no more desire to continue onward now than he did before. But for all that, this was where the storm began. With a sigh, he finally allowed himself to go on.

Akane had nearly died. Reduced to a doll by power beyond his understanding, her eyes closing, and the waters of her salvation so close at hand that Ranma could nearly touch them... Saffron barred the way; all looming godlike might and blind aggression, refusing to allow her this one chance at life. He was beyond Ranma's power to defeat; he had shown this again and again. And so Ranma had seen... What?

Two pathways, stretching out from that moment had opened before him. Down one, Ranma had seen Akane's eyes closed forever, and an escape with his life barely intact. He went back to the Tendo's, and stayed only long enough to attend Akane's funeral before setting off again, never to return. Down the other, he had seen Akane's eyes open again, a smile once again cross her face. But beyond that, there was darkness and shadow that he could not see the end of, more terrifying in its way than a thousand Saffrons.

A voice inside of him had spoken then, had told him "Choose one." There had never been a question of which he would choose. Down one, Akane lived. Down the other, she died. Everything else was immaterial.

He made the choice, and that was when everything began to blur. The world seemed for some time to stop, and when he finally emerged back into full awareness of his surroundings he was high up in the air, with winds howling around him, and a broken figure covered in ice falling before him. He hadn't understood what had happened, or what he had done, and wouldn't for some time. In that time, in that place, he had done as he had so often before; moved without thought, summoned the winds again, and forced the dragon to look to the heavens.

The next few hours were, in their own way, as much of a blur as the fight against Saffron. The horror of his failure to save Akane, the sheer blinding relief when he found out that he had not, in fact, failed. The disappointment when he had found the pools of Jyusenkyo, all mixed and awash over the ground in the torrential downpour. He hadn't had time for real thought until that night. But once he had time to curl up in his bedroll, in his tent, silent but for the patter of rain against the fabric, thought had come to him.

Saffron's resurrection had fooled him. He could just barely remember a brief sense of relief when he had seen him again in his infant form, crying in Kiima's arms. Seeing him there, even reduced to this state meant that he didn't have to stay up nights remembering what he had done. It meant that he didn't have to do any more soul searching than he had on the account of any of his other defeated opponents. It meant that he wasn't a murderer.

Only, that wasn't quite true, was it?

And so he had stayed up nights, had looked within him for answers, and, aggravatingly, found none. It meant that his relationship with Akane, so tenuous and fragile that even now it was difficult for him to wrap his mind around the idea that it existed at all, was beginning to crack under the strain of his melancholy. When was the last time he had spoken to her beyond words of a single syllable? Two days? Three? They seemed to flow together, these past few months...

Right, three days ago. It must have been. That was when the letter from Ryoga had come. He must have told her about it. It had been so oddly concise for something written by the usually overdramatic boy that it managed to stick in the mind, despite the efforts of the storm to sweep it away.

_'Ranma, be at the lot in three days. We've got to talk, and probably fight._

_-Ryoga.'_

It was probably the most accurate representation of any possible meeting between him and Ryoga that he'd ever received, although he was more than a little unsure of whether his old enemy/friend/rival/comrade in arms would be there at the appointed time.

_It's getting harder to categorize Ryoga too. Damn it. When did that happen? When did Ryoga go from being 'that damn guy who keeps trying to kill me' to being... whatever he is now? And when did Akane go from being 'that macho chick that my pop engaged me to' to being... whatever she is?_ He shook that particularly dangerous line of thought away. _At least Kuno hasn't started getting complicated, or I'd probably just throw myself off a bridge and be done with it. _

He heard the car stop just outside the entrance to the lot, and heard the passenger get. His ears were a lot keener than most people suspected. He couldn't quite hear an ant's footsteps, but he could thankfully, hear a cat's. And he was more than capable of recognizing an individual's pattern of footsteps. Even so, he opened one eye in order to verify what he was hearing.

Ryoga Hibiki, wearing his habitual traveling garb, and shouldering an enormous backpack was waving away a taxi, which sped off, apparently not anxious to be in the same area as these two. He then walked to one side of the lot, set down his backpack, removed some wood from the pile, and began building a campfire. He had yet to speak to Ranma, or give him more than a momentary glance.

_Who was it that first started stocking this yard with firewood anyway,_ thought Ranma._ Cologne? Could be Ukyo. _Not knowing little details like that was beginning to bother him these days. Someone had recognized the fact that a lot of the people that used the lot could oft times use a pot of hot water, and had taken action. There was always a brass kettle and tripod under the tarpaulin too.

Ryoga blew on the newly birthed flames a few times in order to get them going, and then retrieved the aforementioned kettle and tripod, and set them up, before filling the kettle from his water bottle. He still hadn't said anything. It was beginning to get on Ranma's nerves.

"Hey, Ryoga. Since when have you been using taxis to get around?" The words fell flat, and Ranma suddenly realized just how quiet the space around two people could be when only one of them was talking.

Ryoga lifted his eyes slowly off the kettle, and settled them on Ranma. He waited a few seconds before responding, just long enough to begin to irritate him. "Akari's idea. Told her that I was going to fight you in three days. She thought this would get me here..."

"This week? She's a smart girl, that one. Hang on to her. So you can find your way home, I mean." Ranma smirked. This was better already. Almost like the old days: him insulting Ryoga, the other boy failing to insult him back. A couple seconds more and Ryoga'd throw a punch and then, maybe, he could loose himself in the melee. He waited expectantly for a bit, and was disappointed when Ryoga's face failed to even twitch. "Y'know, 'cause you got no sense of..." He paused, irritated. "Okay, what's this about? Are we gonna fight or what?"

The other nodded. "Probably. But we should probably talk first." He stood up, and brushed some of the dirt off of his pants. Ranma noted with some displeasure that Ryoga had grown a couple of inches since the last time he'd seen him. The other boy had used to rely on the fact that his near inhuman strength was entirely concealed beneath a largely normal exterior. These days, it appeared that he was working on intimidation instead. He'd grown more heavily muscled in the last few months, and if he grew any more, he'd be officially classified as 'huge'. "Ranma, I visited the Tendo's a couple of weeks ago," he began.

Ranma blinked. "When? I didn't see you."

"You weren't there. Nobody knew exactly where you were, but you were probably off training or whatever it is you do these days."

Ranma frowned. If that last statement was turned over in his head enough, it almost sounded as though Ryoga had managed to tag him with an insult. "...Yeah. Probably. So?"

"I talked with Akane while I was there." He began removed his jacket, then folded it neatly and placed it on top of his backpack. "She said that she was doing fine, even though you never talk to her anymore. But you know how she is..." He began performing warm-up exercises. Simple stretches and lunges designed to loosen the muscles after some hours sitting in the back seat of a taxicab.

Ranma stood up suddenly, his face flushed with anger. "What the hell do you mean, Ryoga? I know that you're trying to get at somethin', so you'd better just get to it now, before I beat it out of ya!" His finger waved threateningly under Ryoga's nose. The larger boy stared impassively down at it.

"What I mean, Ranma, is that you've screwed up." Ryoga's voice remained calm, cutting right through the cloud of anger surrounding the other boy. Ranma stared at him in disbelief. This wasn't the way that conversations with Ryoga were supposed to go. There was supposed to be some banter, some light bragging, a few insults, then Ryoga would shout and attack and Ranma would kick his ass. They'd perfected that formula years ago, why change it now?

"Plan on telling me how I've screwed up? Or are you just going to make me guess?" Ranma was gratified to note, for the first time, a suggestion of anger in Ryoga's expression.

"Akane, Ranma! After everything that happened between you two, you've just abandoned her like this? After I let you have her you decide to just throw her away?" Ryoga's voice was more irritated than angry, but the words were more than enough to infuriate his opponent.

"Let me have her? Okay, first off, she wasn't ever yours to give to me, right?"

Ryoga winced, and muttered something that might have been "That's true enough," under his breath, but Ranma continued without hearing.

"And second of all, you got no right criticizing me about 'abandoning' her. Damn it, Ryoga, I'm the one who faced down Saffron for her! Not you, me! I'm the one who fought that crazy bastard, and nearly died... for her! I'm the one who got the cold cursed water for her, while you were standing around being useless. Me! I'm the one who killed for her!"

Those last words for a few moments even after silence had returned to the lot, save for the sound of Ranma's heavy, angered breathing. Ryoga's face had returned to impassivity. Ranma glared at him.

"You don't know what I've gone through for her. So don't you dare..."

"Was it worth it?" Ryoga spoke the question quite softly, but Ranma heard it nevertheless. He stared for a few moments at Ryoga before answering.

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Was it worth fighting Saffron and nearly dying, and having to kill him, for Akane's sake? And what about the rest of the last two years? Was she worth all the other times you've had to go through hell for her? Because if you don't think so, than maybe you don't deserve her." Ryoga's voice was still impassive, but was now strained around the edges in an obvious attempt to contain his own anger.

Ranma rolled his eyes. "That didn't make any goddamn sense, Ryoga. If this all you came here to say to me, then I'm getting out of here. Hope you can find your way home..." He began to walk past the larger boy, only to meet a balled fist coming the other way.

He'd fought with Ryoga innumerable times in the past, and was more familiar with his fighting style than that of any other opponent he'd ever faced. The nature of the punch: forceful, direct, and relatively slow, came as no surprise to him. The lack of introduction did. As he skipped back out of the way of the blow, he shouted out in anger, "Hey! What the hell was that for?" before realizing that it was, in fact, a rather stupid thing to say.

Ryoga didn't seem to care. "Ranma! If you aren't going to treat her right on your own, than I'm just going to have to make you!" He aimed another series of punches at Ranma's upper body, all of which were neatly avoided.

The two moved across the courtyard, Ryoga advancing and Ranma retreating before his furious onslaught. As always, Ryoga found it frustratingly difficult to even come close to landing a blow on the faster boy. Ranma, for his part, was equally irritated. Ryoga's new reach was making it more difficult than anticipated to land his own blows, and all but impossible to land one that would tell against the larger boy's tough skin.

_Hell, I saw him get hit by a car once and come out of it with nothing more than bruises. If this keeps up, I might have to do something nasty to him, _he thought.

Their progress began to follow a clockwise pattern around the outside edge of the lot. Neither of them had yet taken any damage to speak of, when suddenly Ryoga reversed his steps and backed off, eyeing his opponent warily.

_Shit, he caught that one,_ thought Ranma. "So, Ryoga, are you calling it quits? Might save you a few lumps if you get out now."

Ryoga's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Instead, he drew back, and crossed his arms in front of him. Ranma barely detected the rising tide of heavy chi before it was launched at him in a rippling orb of dark green energy.

"Oh for the love of..." he muttered, summoning up his own, icy blue sphere, and colliding with Ryoga's. "You can't win like that you know..." His taunts were suddenly cut short as received a nearly instantaneous glimpse of Ryoga hurtling forward through the cover of the dissipating balls of power. Before Ranma could react, the larger boy's arms had wrapped around his body, and were suddenly clenched in a bear hug.

Ranma's mind blanked. Ryoga was using _tactics._ Ryoga wasn't supposed to use tactics! Then, as the grip tightened, his mind began racing again. He knew that Ryoga was more than capable of snapping him in half if he was given enough time... so what to do about it? He raised one arm, and brought the edge of his hand down hard on the strong boy's shoulder, before wincing in pain. _Well, that was no good. _Then, as his tactical mind caught up, he thought _Oh shit. I can't get enough leverage to hurt him from this position..._A few test blows proved him right; no matter the manner or placement of his blows, he couldn't bring enough force to bear from where he was to cause Ryoga to do more than grunt. He could feel his spine beginning to strain under the pressure Ryoga was putting on it.

"Well?" growled Ryoga, "Do you give up? Promise to treat her better and I'll let you alone. Otherwise..." His arms tightened fractionally, causing Ranma to give an involuntary gasp.

His eyes closed in thought, ignoring the screams of pain coming from his back. There wasn't much he could do in this situation. His whole fighting style was built around the idea of mobility, and didn't have a lot to offer if he was deprived of it. He could feel consciousness beginning to fade, but oddly there were two kinds of blackness in front of him. One was the familiar grasp of unconsciousness, but the other was a darkness of a deeper and more profound kind. If only he dared to touch it...

His eyes opened. He had an idea.

Ryoga hadn't really expected Ranma to answer. After all, in all the time he'd ever known him, he'd never even heard of Ranma conceding defeat to anyone for any reason (those trick glasses Mousse had for a while didn't really count, he thought.). He didn't really want to kill him, though. He'd just squeeze until Ranma went under, then leave him there, with a warning not. Maybe he'd draw something on him with a marker too. Or...

He frowned. Ranma was getting... colder. A tangible mist was springing up around them as moisture began to condense out of the air, and condensation began forming along the smaller boy's still arms.

There was a sudden shift, and suddenly the body Ryoga was holding was a great deal smaller, and his face was full of a distressing softness. Reflexively, he dropped the girl.

Ranma jumped backwards, moving almost before she hit the ground, ignoring the warning flashes of pain from her back. Flowing into a guard stance, and giving no sign whatsoever of the discomfort she was in, she eyed Ryoga with growing worry. He was fighting well today, as he usually did whenever he was this strongly angered, and while transforming into a girl had freed her from his bear hug, it now left her at a severe disadvantage. Their difference in reach was going to be hard to overcome now, and the drop in physical strength that accompanied her transformation would make it nearly impossible to hit Ryoga with a telling blow.

Ryoga glared at his opponent, now a small red headed girl. "Nice trick, Ranma. Since when have you been able to do that cold thing?"

Ranma bit back the answer, _Since Jusendo,_ and instead began a wary circle of her adversary. "Why should I tell you? You couldn't use it anyway, unless you like turning into a set of walking pork chops." Even as she said it, the insult sounded trite to her ears. The slight narrowing of Ryoga's eyes showed that he found it even less amusing. He straightened up, and jerked a thumb toward the hot water kettle.

"Go over there and use it. I'm not going to be able to punish you properly when you're like this. I'll wait until you're done."

Ranma paused for a brief second, weighing the options, but finally decided that being able to fight back effectively was worth more than discomforting Ryoga. She moved over to the kettle, which was by now more than hot enough, still watching the larger boy out of the corner of her eye. _I don't _think _that Ryoga would attack me in the middle of this...but he's already acting weird, so..._

The change from female back to male took only a couple of moments, and then Ranma threw down the kettle, not bothering to fill it up again. Without a word, he flowed back into a combative stance, and the fight began again.

This time, Ranma was more aggressive. Ryoga fell back under the hail of blows that Ranma dealt out, unable to launch an attack of his own. Ranma's mouth was twisted into a grim smile; the prospect of beating seven kinds of hell out of Ryoga was a welcome poultice for his bleak mood. He struck with precision, aiming for those few points on Ryoga's body where he could cause enough damage for it to be worth the effort. Ryoga blocked or avoided most of them, but enough got through that the outcome of the battle was no longer in doubt. Barring luck, or some other brilliant strategy from Ryoga (_Ha!) _the inevitable conclusion was in sight.

Ranma's left foot struck a smooth, round stone, and slipped from under him. It was a single slip, not enough to cost him the match, not against an opponent that was so far behind him in terms of speed, but enough to leave him momentarily vulnerable. Ryoga's fist lashed out, and Ranma was able to block, but the sheer force of the blow sent him across the lot.

Ranma had just enough time to be irritated at himself for the mistake before twisting in the air in order to bounce off the opposite end wall. It certainly would have worked, if not for the obstacle that had gotten in the way. There was a cry of shock, and of pain before the both of them were slammed into the fence.

He scrambled up, frantically moving aside the debris, and numbly took in the sight of blood dripping from Akane's head. Her eyes were closed, and her dress was torn where fragments of the fencing had stabbed her. There was a great deal of blood. When Ranma attempted to move her off of the debris, she gave a small whimper, and his hands came away red and sticky.

He felt Ryoga run up behind him, and turned toward him. The other boy's eyes were wide and horrified. "I... I didn't see her there! I didn't mean for this to happen! What in the world was she _doing_ here?" Ryoga was beginning to babble. "Is she alright? Oh, God...If she's hurt..."

Ranma turned back toward Akane's prone form, and stared at her wordlessly. There was a bento box near her, now smashed open and the contents scattered across the ground. Enough food for two.

The last time he had spoken to her had been what, three days ago? When Ryoga's letter had come. He had mentioned that he'd be meeting him here, hadn't he? _Oh God...she must have been bringing lunch..._

"Damn you Ranma, this is all your fault!" Ryoga's cry shot through Ranma's head like a knife. He'd been thinking the same thing, but he'd be _damned _before he'd take it from Ryoga. Inside him, the storm broke, and dark winds howled over him.

Ryoga stepped back, suddenly uncertain. He had a keen aura sense, possibly even better than Ranma's, and it was one of the few things that he took genuine pride in. Ranma's aura was as familiar to him as anyone on earth; all blue-white and shimmering, save when it was concealed for a disguise, or for a special technique. But aside from concealment, a person's aura never changed more than a tiny bit, to indicate anger or fear or so forth. It certainly never did anything like he was witnessing in Ranma now.

His aura had become shot through with black streaks, like veins of darkness amidst the normal colors of Ranma's self. And it had begun pulsing, as though beating in time to some unheard melody, which was insane because auras weren't supposed to do anything of the kind. Ryoga was seriously contemplating simply running for it when it suddenly exploded.

The blackness of the aura washed away his aura sense for a moment, but his vision was still working fine, although it was difficult to believe it. Ranma's eyes had become blank white pools, around the edges of which blue flames trailed. Some kind of light armor was forming around him, midnight black but seeming shadowy and insubstantial, more the suggestion of armor than the reality. His face, just previously in an expression of pain and anger, became black, frozen and cold. Ranma straightened up from his crouch, and when he moved, a suggestion of a blurred afterimage followed him. He turned toward Ryoga, and even though his eyes were as blank as the rest of his face, Ryoga knew, somehow, that he was glaring at him. Then his aura sense returned, and he gaped at the swirling, blue-black shadows that howled around Ranma like the wind of a hurricane. All his instincts screamed that, despite the superficial resemblance, this was _not _Ranma.

Not-Ranma's voice halted him, just as he was about to run for it. It was Ranma's voice, but cold in a way that his had never been. "Do you imply that I am at fault, Ryoga? You dare to accuse me, when it was your careless incompetence that brought this to pass?"

There was a slight blurring, and then Not-Ranma was standing in front of him, no more than an inch away. Ryoga blinked. _Didn't even see him move..._He responded instinctively, throwing a devastating punch toward that cold face, only to have it effortlessly deflected.

"Ever since you have come into my life, Ryoga, I have tolerated you. Tolerated your attempts to best me, tolerated your presence in my dwelling place, and tolerated your endeavors to come between Akane and I." This last statement was punctuated by a sudden thunderclap, and blow that sent Ryoga hurtling across the lot, landing him in the pile of firewood. It took a couple of stunned moments for Ryoga to realize that the thunderclap had been Not-Ranma's fist breaking the sound barrier.

Again, the distorted reflection of Ranma appeared in front of Ryoga faster than his eye could follow. Ryoga scrambled up, and flung another desperate blow toward his opponent. This time, his hand was caught, stopping it cold. His eyes widened as he was effortlessly forced back to the ground. The hand that had entrapped his own squeezed slightly, causing sparks of pain to shoot up Ryoga's arm. Not-Ranma gave a frigid smile.

"My patience is finally at an end, however. I can't think of why I haven't done this before now... How many times, Ryoga, have you been at my mercy? How many times could I have, with no effort at all, removed your meddling presence from my life? Well..."

"Who the hell are you?" The words burst out of Ryoga before he could stop himself. He was confused, and suddenly afraid for his own existence in a way that he'd never experienced before. It sounded like this thing _believed_ that it was Ranma, but while Ranma wasn't a killer, this thing was certainly implying its own willingness to become one. Not-Ranma's faint smile vanished.

"Don't interrupt me Ryoga." The steel arm gave a sharp twist, and there was a wet cracking sound. For a moment, Ryoga simply stared at his own forearm, snapped neatly in half. Then the pain hit him, and he howled in agony.

The smile returned. "I'll make this brief. You've irritated me, and worse, you've harmed my beloved. You will not do so again." His other arm raised into the air, his hand slashing edge ready to descend. "Goodbye, Ryoga."

And then he turned, and caught out of the air the half-brick that had been flung at his head. Ryoga gasped at the shock of pain as his broken arm was released, and he fell limply to ground. Akane was standing there, her dress torn, her scalp bleeding heavily and her face full of anger, but certainly conscious. Her arm was still frozen at the end of the throw.

Akane took a step back. She was still a little woozy from the blow she had taken, but she was damned certain that Ranma didn't normally look like he did just at that moment. She was also pretty sure that he didn't usually catch the things that she threw at him. A trickle of nervousness began working its way down her spine as Ranma stared at her.

And then, with a sensation as if the world had blinked, Ranma was once again how she remembered him, and running toward her, his face full of worry. "Akane! Are you alright? God, I thought you were really hurt! Do you need anything? You should do something about that cut..."

She nodded, overwhelmed by the sudden outpouring of concern. "I'm fine. I was just a little stunned before, that's all. What about you? I mean, you looked... odd, for a second there."

Ranma frowned. "No, I'm okay. Man, that really looks pretty nasty..." His fingers brushed aside a lock of her hair, sticky and wet with blood. "I'm gonna take you to Doctor Tofu's, kay? You might need stitches or something..."

The whimpering groan from behind him caused the both of them to look over at where Ryoga still lay, clutching his ruined arm. Akane's hands flew to her mouth, and Ranma's eyes widened.

"Holy shit! Ryoga, what the hell happened to you?" he exclaimed, rushing over to his side. "Aw man... this is really bad. Here, come on..." He reached down to pick Ryoga off the ground, and was surprised when he was feebly pushed away. "Hey man, fight's over okay? I'm just gonna..." His voice trailed off.

"Ranma... why in the world did you do this to him?" Akane's voice was strangely distant. "I mean, I thought you were being a bit rough on him, but I never thought that you would..." Her voice became angry. "I know you've never known when to stop, but this is just too much! How could you possibly..." She stopped. Ranma was standing there, silent and unmoving, his eyes looking at nothing. "Ranma? Are you okay?"

"No... no, I don't think so," he murmured. "But Ryoga's worse. C'mon, man." He reached down again, and this time picked him up despite the other's attempts to stop him. "I'll figure this stuff out later, okay? Right now, the both of you need to see the doctor." With that, he began swiftly walking in the direction of Doctor Tofu's, supporting Ryoga, and Akane worriedly following behind.

* * *

Across town, there was a Chinese restaurant that had been open for a few years now, and which was quite frequently the site of events both exciting and supernatural. As such, it was quite popular, since the citizens of Nerima liked a good show as much as anyone, especially since, unlike at the vacant lot, combat here was unlikely to spill over onto innocent bystanders. There were two reasons for this. The first was that even the more unusual residents understood the wisdom of allowing a good restaurant to operate mostly unhindered. The second was the proprietress, who even now was taking a quite cup of tea in the back room.

Cologne's movements were slow and deliberate as she stirred the tea, as seemingly befitted her ancient form. _Not that there are any customers to fool at the moment,_ she thought. _Still, it's best to keep in practice. Besides, my left wrist _has_ been aching something fierce lately..._She sighed happily as the aroma wafted up toward her face. She quite liked days like this, when there were few customers to distract her, and she could indulge herself. Idly, she wondered what the children were doing today. She'd been keeping a close eye on them since they'd come back from Mt. Phoenix, but they hadn't shown any of the expected signs yet. She was beginning to think that she'd been worried over nothing. She lifted the teacup to her mouth, and sipped from it, feeling the warmth of it spread through her body. It really was sad... no matter the arts she used to extend her life, to keep her body strong and quick despite the passing of three hundred years; she still couldn't find a way to keep the cold out of her bones. Ah well.

On the other side of the room, something flickered. The teacup dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers, and shattered on the table. She slowly got up, now feeling every one of her three centuries, and walked over to where a small mirror hung on the wall. It was an antique, of course, as were most of her possessions. But even the most ardent antique enthusiast would have been astounded to know just how old it was. It was a round glass, about nine inches across, in an intricately worked bronze frame, set with six translucent stones. One of the stones, the upper right one, was blinking on and off.

"Oh no..." she murmured, sadly. "I'd hoped for a little more time. They still aren't ready for this. Too much needs to be resolved yet." She waved a hand in front of the mirror, and spoke again, this time with steel in her voice. "Show me."

The surface of the mirror rippled, and an image appeared in it of a familiar, troubled face. She sighed. "It's you then... I thought it might be. Ah child, you don't deserve this, but our world demands a sword. I just hope your forging hasn't gone too far awry."

And with that, she again waved her hand, causing the image to vanish. Without bothering to clean up the fragments of teacup, she grabbed her ever-present walking stick, and bounded through window and out onto the rooftops with inhuman speed. Despite the essential sadness of the event, she somehow felt excited. After so many years of waiting, her final, greatest task was finally about to begin.


	3. Chapter 2

Souls and Shadows

Part 1: A Door Once Opened

Chapter 2

The martial artist population often found itself in the treatment room of Dr. Ono Tofu, despite the fact that, technically, he was a specialist in chiropractics, acupuncture, moxibustion, and the like. His skills were in fact rather more extensive than that, and were more the sufficient to the task of repairing even the major wounds that occasionally crop up as a part of an overactive lifestyle. Just as importantly to said martial artists, who tended towards having a great deal of spirit but rather less money, he didn't charge his friends.

Currently, Dr. Tofu was reading a report that had come to him the day before in a brown envelope marked "Water Waste Disposal Bill," sipping a cup of tea that was quickly going lukewarm, and nodding to himself. At the sound of the door being forcefully opened, however, he immediately ceased all three of these activities, and the report was quickly locked inside his desk. Rushing into the front room to see what the matter was, he was greeted by two very worried looking individuals from the 'poor martial artist' set, and a third, carried between them, who, despite also technically being a part of that group, was more pertinently labeled as 'patient.'

Ryoga was groaning in obvious pain, and Tofu visibly paled as he saw the state of the boy's arm. There was a great deal of blood, and his forearm was bent sharply in the middle. Worse, he could clearly see several bone shards peeking through the skin.

His body began moving on automatic while his conscious mind was still caught up in the question of how something like this had happened to Ryoga, of all people.

"All right, bring him in here and lay him down on the bed, quickly." Without waiting to see if they did so, he rushed back into his treatment room and began gathering together some equipment. He could sense the others entering the room as well, and when he turned back they had indeed laid Ryoga down as per his instructions.

"Good. Now, get out of they way..." He moved with a calm assurance that was, perhaps, a millimeter deep as he quickly selected a set of pressure points and gently pressed them.

Ryoga's whimpering continued, and he managed to hiss "S...Still...Hurtss..."

Tofu frowned, then his face cleared. "Right, of course. Ryoga." He pressed the points again, this time jabbing his finger at them like an awl. He took a moment to wave away the pain in his index finger. "That won't last you very long, I'm afraid. You're very tough, but that also makes you hard to affect with the techniques that I usually employ."

Ryoga nodded faintly. Akane, who had been silent up till this point, frowned. "Is there anything you can do, then?"

Tofu shrugged. "Not as much as I'd like..." He began setting up an IV. "I can give him morphine. That will damp out most of the pain. And I can administer antibiotics. But you really should have taken him to the hospital. I'm not really equipped to deal with something like this here." He tapped off the needle and, with some effort, inserted it into Ryoga's left wrist. He watched as, almost immediately, Ryoga's expression faded into a sort of dim semi-awareness of the world around him.

"No," said Ranma. His voice was flat and distant, as if preoccupied. "We can't take him to a hospital."

"Ranma!" Akane's face had assumed it's accustomed angry expression, though it was now tinted with disbelief. "If Dr. Tofu says that we need to take him to the hospital, than that's what we have to do. Can't you stop being difficult for a couple of hours?"

To both her shock, and Tofu's, Ranma seemed to shrink in himself. He shook his head. "Sorry..." His voice was very small. "Sorry... but we can't. Hospital will ask questions. 'Bout how this happened. Can't answer them right now."

Akane's mouth opened and closed incredulously a couple of times, and then she took an angry step forward. Tofu hastily leaped between them. "That's enough, you two. Please take this into the other room while I do what I can here. If you're going to fight, I'd rather you did it outside, if at all possible."

Ranma nodded, and Akane flushed from embarrassment. Both of them walked out.

Behind them, Tofu removed his glasses momentarily, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Oh Blessed Light... what am I going to do about this?" His training, still in primary control of his body, however, was already preparing the X-Ray machine.

* * *

In the other room, Ranma was huddled in a corner staring at nothing, while Akane was staring at him. After a bit, she sighed, and sat down next to him. Ranma gave her a startled glance.

"Um... I thought you were gonna hit me or something?"

"Not yet."

He nodded, and sank back into contemplation, not noticing Akane's frustrated expression.

* * *

In the treatment room, Tofu sighed again, and, shaking his head, walked back into the front. Ranma and Akane were sitting next to each other very quietly, and although Akane looked as though she wanted to break _something_ she hadn't yet decided that Ranma was her intended target.

_Hmm. Well _that's_ better than I hoped for, at least,_ he thought. He began speaking without preamble, and both of them looked toward him, startled at his presence. "I'm sorry, Ranma, but the X-Ray shows that Ryoga has what is known as a greenstick fracture. That means that his bones have been twisted apart, leaving a lot of little shards and jagged edges. I can't do anything about that here. It'll require surgery to fix."

Ranma stared at him. "What do you mean? I thought you could fix just about anything. I mean, you can do ki-healing and everything and..." he frowned. "Why are you using X-Rays? Couldn't you use ki-sense to find out what was wrong?"

"Ranma, I could tell what was wrong as soon as I saw him, and just with my eyes. But while ki-sense and ki-healing can work wonders with soft tissues, I'm afraid that it's not nearly as good with bones." He shook his head. "There's no way that the kind of medicine you're used to getting from me can deal with the problem he has. I'm sorry." He raised a hand to hold off Ranma's next question. "Look, the procedure requires, at the very least, one more skilled practitioner, and neither of you are qualified."

Ranma's hands opened and closed helplessly. "You couldn't... y'know, walk us through it?"

Tofu glared at him. "If I wanted Ryoga to lose his arm, I could." His gaze softened as looked at Ranma's stricken face. "I really am sorry. But without another doctor, there's nothing I can do to help him."

The voice from the door was dry and cracked with age and amusement. "Perhaps I might be of some small assistance?"

Both Ranma and Akane's heads turned abruptly toward the door, and their eyes narrowed as they looked at Cologne. Neither of them quite trusted the old woman, and the timing seemed a bit too coincidental. And as a result, neither of them was paying any attention to Ono Tofu's face.

As soon as she had walked in, his eyes had gone wide, and the blood had drained completely away from his face. He swallowed nervously, and responded. "Well... um... I suppose you might be able to help..."

"Good." She smiled grimly. "Please, lead the way." Both of them stepped back into the treatment room. Once there, her amused expression vanished entirely. "What's the situation?"

"Greenstick break on Ryoga's right forearm... I've already administered morphine and antibiotics, but I can't operate here without an assistant. Ranma's dead set against taking him to the hospital for some reason..." His voice trailed off. "Since you're here, I suppose that it's Guardian business?"

Cologne nodded. "Ranma just experienced his first full Change. The mirror confirms it. And unfortunately for Ryoga, that means that Ranma is quite correct. We cannot risk sending him to a hospital now."

Tofu stared at her in shock. "He Changed? Already? But I though it wasn't due for at least another two or three years..." He broke off at Cologne's sharp look. "...Not that I doubt your words. I'm just surprised, that's all." He sighed. "Well, if you say no hospital, I certainly can't countermand that. But are you sure you can do this? You're an excellent healer, of course, but you don't have a medical degree..." His voice faded entirely under her withering stare.

"I may not have a degree, but I do have almost three hundred years of experience tending wounds like this and worse. On the battlefield, and in lost caverns, and on lonely marches where no help would ever come. And I seem to remember, about thirty years ago, a certain ambitious young healer traveling all the way to my village for the chance to beg of me an apprenticeship." She suddenly smiled, and patted his cheek fondly. "Ah, young one. Don't worry so. I acknowledge that you are my superior when it comes to the cut and poke of western surgery. This once, you shall be the leader. But..." she raised a warning finger. "Only this once, hmm?"

* * *

Out in the front room, Ranma and Akane were once more sitting silently, her staring and him, and him staring at nothing in particular. Finally, she gave a sigh and said, "Well?"

He slowly turned to look at her. "Well what?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He turned away. "Not really." He was shocked when his head was grabbed, and forcibly turned back to face her.

"That's too bad, because I do." Akane's face softened. "Ranma, you haven't spoken more than a couple of words at a time to me in weeks now. You've been acting more than a little weird ever since the..." her face flushed. "...the wedding... ...and today you've been even weirder than usual." She reached up to absently brush aside the lock of hair that had fallen down in front of her eyes. Her hand came away sticky, and she suddenly realized that she had forgotten all about her own wound. One look at Ranma's face told her that it had slipped his mind as well.

"Aw, jeeze..." he stood up quickly. "Hold on, let me get a washcloth or something..." He darted into the bathroom, and returned with a wet cloth, which he began using to clean her blood caked hair and forehead. She sat obediently still, somewhat amused at his sudden concern.

"It doesn't look to bad... head cuts bleed a lot, that's all. You might need a couple of stitches or something, though." His hands moved gently and carefully across her scalp. It was always amazing to her that hand like his, which could break stone and metal, could also be so gentle whenever he could bring himself to touch her.

Her own hand caught his, and brought it away from her face. He opened his mouth to protest, but said nothing.

"I wasn't done talking, Ranma. I want you to listen to me, understand?" He nodded guardedly, wary of her serious tone. "You hurt Ryoga badly today, but I don't think that you meant to. I'm not sure what happened, but back in the lot, when you turned toward me... for a second there, you looked... ...strange."

He nodded again, looking down at the ground. "Look, Akane, I can't give you anything like a real answer, all right? I don't have a clue about what the hell happened to me back there. It was like..." He paused, and a puzzled expression came over his face. "It was like being caught in a windstorm at night. Like I was turned around and around until I didn't know what way I was facing, and I couldn't see anything to give me a clue anyway." He sighed. "And then I _could_ see again, but it was like..." He shook his head, and stopped.

Akane bit her lip nervously. She was used to flared tempers, and confusion, and even magic and possession, but as much as she hated to think about it this sounded more like insanity than anything else. "Like what?" Ranma started to turn away, but she once again caught him, and made him look toward her. "I want to understand what's been going on. If you can't give me that, if you can't even _try_, than what can you give me?"

He stared at her, and slowly, with a voice raw as though the words had been dragged out with hooks, he said, "Everything was completely clear. Everything was simple and easy; I knew what to do, and I did it. He moved so slowly, and I was so much stronger than him... He'd _hurt_ you, and it was so easy to decide that he should die for it..." He shuddered. "I was going to kill him. And it felt so _right._"

"But you don't feel like that now?" Akane said, the question coming hesitantly. "You seem to regret hurting him so badly..."

"'Course I do. Damn it..." His hands clenched tightly, the scars going dead white from the pressure. "I lost control, somehow. It was like someone else using _my_ body and _my _mind to do those things. Like it was back at Jusendo..."

* * *

The tray beside Ryoga's bed was half filled with bloody splinters, and two stainless steel rods had been driven through the bones of Ryoga's forearm to keep them in alignment. Despite the fact that they had been working hard for nearly three hours to fix his arm as best they could, neither Cologne nor Tofu were sweating. Being able to manipulate one's own personal ki had benefits in situations like this. Ryoga himself was fast asleep, nudged into unconsciousness by a skillful prod of Cologne's walking stick.

Finally, Tofu stretched, and let out a sigh of relief. "There. That's about all we can do, aside from the casting, and I can deal with that myself. I'm grateful for your assistance, of course..."

"But you still wish that he had been sent to a hospital, eh? I can understand that well enough. But you do understand what is at stake here, do you not?" She leaned back on her staff, and realized suddenly that she was getting a perverse enjoyment out his discomfiture. She mentally chided herself. "It's all right. I understand that you are, in your heart, a doctor first. I do not blame you." She nodded as he relaxed. "However, I do request that you move your premises to the Nekohanten." He went rigid. "We can purchase the buildings on either side of the restaurant... we'll need much more space now that the others will be coming to live there. And you'll have to stop seeing other customers. It's too risky now."

Tofu's mouth opened and closed a few times, silently. Then, he nodded. "As you say. But is it really necessary?" Then, before Cologne could respond, he answered himself. "I apologize. Of course it is. I shouldn't have asked that."

She nodded.

"But... Is that enough? Shouldn't they be moved to a more secure location? Where they couldn't harm anyone?"

Cologne gave a sudden dry cackle, so hard that it seemed to nearly knock her from her staff. "Oh, dear boy. Where could I put them? There is no prison in this world capable of holding even Ranma, let alone the rest of them." She shook her head. "No. This was always a gamble, but it was one that had to be made. The Seraphim will not come to save us this time. We've had to find our own weapons, as they said we would."

She stood; an ancient and diminutive figure perched atop a gnarled wooden staff. She was ridiculous and yet somehow radiated a kind of dangerous vitality. Tofu decided that he didn't really want to argue the point. He moved aside, and she walked through the door, to speak with the two who waited there.

In the front room, Ranma was sitting with his head cradled in his hands, staring at the floor. Akane was seated next to him, obviously unsure of what to do about Ranma's uncharacteristically fragile mood. She looked up as Cologne walked in. Ranma's eyes remained fixed on the tiles.

Cologne grimaced. _I'd hoped he wouldn't take it this badly. I suppose I should be direct about it, then..._ She cleared her throat, quite loudly. When Ranma didn't respond, she said, "Not feeling quite yourself, Ranma?"

His eyes lifted to meet hers with flashing intensity. With a wordless growl, he sprang at her, hands reaching out, although whether to grasp her cloak or her neck she was not sure. She spun out of the way of his clumsy charge, and caught him a blow on the back of his knees with her staff.

Akane had barely risen from her seat by the time Ranma, now on legs that refused to support him, crashed into the opposite wall. She opened her mouth, as though to yell at Ranma, then paused, confused as to whose fault it really was.

"Damn you, old ghoul..." Ranma voice was a muffled as he attempted to right himself from the pile of wrecked furniture and old magazines. "You know something about this, don't you? You _always_ know something about what's going on! Tell me _now!_" His voice rose until he was shouting, and his eyes had locked onto her with a manic glare.

Cologne watched him impassively. "I will tell you, but only if you promise to not try anything so abysmally foolish again. Quite apart from the fact that I have no desire to be strangled by you, I'm also the only person you know who can tell you anything about your current... condition. And I don't think that you _really_ want to kill me, Ranma."

Ranma shifted posture, going from aggressive to pleading in one smooth movement. Cologne thought it might have amusing, if it wasn't for the boy's obvious, desperate need for answers. "You mean there really is something wrong with me? I'm not just going crazy?" Before she could respond, his face broke out in a relieved grin. "Aw, thank God! Curses and demons an' shit like that I can deal with. So, what's the problem this time?"

Behind them, Akane sat down again. Something was odd about Cologne. Always before when the old woman had spoken to Ranma, she had always seemed... acquisitive. Now that was gone. Replaced.

"Odd that you should mention demons, Ranma, because that is indeed where this story is headed. Try to interrupt me as few times as possible, will you?" She smiled faintly, and looked back at Akane. "You should listen as well. This concerns you as much as it does him."

Akane nodded, and motioned for Ranma to move over and sit next to her, since the couch on his side of the room had been thoroughly demolished. He did so. _It's odd... _thought Akane. _Now she seems like she already _has_ him. _She was certain she didn't like the implications of that at all. A thought occurred to her, and she said it aloud before she could stop herself. "You haven't called him Son-In-Law since you got here..."

The old woman sighed. "I think that particular game has just about run its course, as fun as it may have been. Don't you agree?" Ranma nodded, warily. "Right. Now, listen to me tell you a story. A _true_ story, just in case you planned on arguing."

Ranma swore under his breath. Puzzled, Cologne glanced toward him. "What is it?"

"Nothing good ever starts with 'let me tell you a story.' I'm going to be up to my ears in prophecy in a second. Just you wait," he said, bitterly.

Cologne rolled her eyes."Not as such. Once again: pay attention, and don't interrupt."

She reached into a pocket, and removed her long-stemmed pipe and a packet of reddish powdery material, which she tamped into the bowl. She flicked it with he finger, and it began to smoke. Neither Akane nor Ranma saw her apply a flame to it. Cologne inhaled deeply from the pipe, and held it for several seconds before continuing. "It begins thousands of years ago, when the world was became the target of forces outside our own realm. Demons, they were called. Or devils, or rakshasas, or oni, or any other of a thousand names. What we called them was unimportant, really, because what they were, were _enemies._"

As she spoke, the smoke discharged from her lungs drifted up around her head, and formed itself into shapes, which soon resolved into the forms or monstrous creatures. Below them were crude, human figures, who ran as they approached.

"These enemies had power the likes of which had never been imagined by the peoples of the world. This was before steel, before iron. Before more than copper had been mined, and even that belonged only to a few advanced tribes. They came among the humans of the time, and ravaged the earth. They destroyed out of sport, killing and conquering those few who had the courage to stand before them."

Spears of lightning struck among the smoke-wrought humans, tearing them into billowed shards.

"Not all men chose to fight, or even to run. Many, and in increasing numbers, chose instead to follow. The enemies were willing to reward those men who did their bidding, and some tribes grew powerful indeed in the service of their masters."

A human, wearing a crown and long robe, bowed down before another form that was all claws and teeth and bat wings. Behind them, a hundred other men did the same.

"For a time, it seemed that humanity's dominion over the earth might vanish entirely before this wave of darkness. But as well as enemies, there were allies. To oppose the Gods of Darkness, came the Gods of Light."

The scene was shattered, and resolved itself into winged figures, who glowed with a powerful radiance, and carried swords that looked altogether too solid to be made merely of smoke. Akane began coughing, and Cologne looked at her witheringly, the tableau above her freezing as she did.

"It there a problem, child?"

"No... not really. I'm sorry. It's just... angels and demons? It seems a bit too mythological to be real. I mean, we've _seen_ demons before. Most of them were pretty silly." She shrugged. "I'm not saying that you're lying, but you have to admit that it's all a bit... incredible."

Cologne glared at her. "Your demons were the demons of man, and of man's creation. The products of spells and rituals made long after the war I am speaking of. These were gods from outside our realm. Please believe me when I say that there was nothing 'silly' about them." She sighed. "I do understand your perspective, but I promise you that I'm speaking in earnest. Now where was I..." She looked up at the frozen angels. "Ah, of course. These gods of light were likewise from outside our realm, but where the dark gods were cruel, rapacious monsters, these angels were wise and benevolent guardians. For centuries, they fought our enemies across the face of the earth, they and their human allies. It was a war on a scale that has never been repeated in human history but was, according to them, only a skirmish in the war that eternally raged between these two forces."

Above her head, angels and demons of oddly colored smoke fought and tore each other apart, while below them, humans bearing standards both angelic and demonic likewise did battle.

"In the end, the darkness was vanquished, and the enemies were driven away from our world. The gods of light created a great barrier, an ethereal wall that they called 'The Veil,' to keep them from ever returning."

The smoke became a flat gray screen above her.

"But, before they too left this place, they conferred with the most trusted of their mortal allies and told them that while The Veil would keep the gods of darkness out for a very long time indeed, it would eventually fail, and the darkness would return."

A crack appeared in the screen; a rent that glowed with a wine-red light.

"And they told their allies, before they took their last steps from our soil, which they had bought back for us with immortal blood, 'We come to the aid of no world twice. When next the darkness comes, you must find you own weapons.'"

The smoke began to fade and disperse. Ranma and Akane's eyes, which had been fixed on the images, drifted down to meet the old woman's again.

"Do you understand so far?" She said, looking hard at both of them. Akane nodded, her eyes filled with apprehension. Ranma just gave her a blank stare. "I am a member of the Guardians of the Veil. We have, for four thousand years, ever since the end of that ancient war, been the keepers of this knowledge. We have monitored The Veil; maintained it as best we could, and been the guards of more than a few records and artifacts that were judged too dangerous to be released." She gave a grim smile. "And, as you've probably gathered by now, the veil is failing. The gods of darkness will be returning, and very soon."

Ranma glared at her. Then, with an air of exaggerated insolence, he placed his hand under his chin. "I still haven't heard a clear explanation of what's happening to me. If some dark god is possessing me, I think you should tell me right off. That's what I was listening for, anyway."

She shook her head. "Not exactly. You see, we first discovered that The Veil was failing about eighteen years ago."

His eyes narrowed. "Okay..."

"Well, during the ancient war, six dark gods of incredible power had been slain by the angelic forces. Their essences... their 'souls,' if you want to use a fairly inappropriate word, could not be destroyed, and so they were instead contained within six gemstones, which the angels passed on to us for safekeeping."

His eyes narrowed further. "Is this going where I think it's going?"

She sighed. "Likely, yes. Eighteen years ago, I made the decision to use these stones. Across the world, six infant children were found who possessed the highest possible resistance to the demonic taint that the stones gave off. We approached each child, and bonded the essence of one of the slain dark gods to it. We hoped that, when the time came, these children would be the weapons that humanity required to defend itself this time."

Ranma's voice was tight. "And I'm one of those children, right?"

Cologne nodded.

He stood up, knocking over his chair as he did. "Perfect! Just friggin' perfect! So now on top of _everything else_ I have to deal with, I also got some kind of evil god living in me! An' not only that, oh no...." He began stomping across the room, arms up in the air. "I'm also expected to be a living weapon or something." He walked back over to Cologne. "Well, screw you."

Akane blinked. She wasn't surprised at Ranma's behavior, particularly. Not when she new, with a kind of numb certainty, that she was also included in the list of altered children. But she'd never seen Ranma in a full-blown rant before.

"Ranma, I know that you're taking this hard..." Cologne began.

"Damn right! This...this _thing_ that you put in me..." Ranma's fist clenched. "This thing made me a murderer."

Cologne stared at him. "As I understand it, Saffron was not actually killed..."

Ranma waved that away. "Bullshit. I didn't know that he'd come back to life, and I tried to kill him anyway. That makes me a murderer." He knelt down in front of her, and stared her in the face. "Who else? Anyone I know?"

Cologne gave a sickly grin. "Oh yes. Two of them are in this building. Two more are waiting at the Nekohanten. The final one is at her own place of business. I'll have to pick her up later."

His eyes widened. "You... God dammit!" He stood up suddenly. "You put one of these things in _Akane?_"

Akane sighed. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful that she was the one he was worried over, or whether she should be irritated at the way he was dominating the conversation. "Ranma, I don't like this idea any more than you do, but I think we should..."

"No, you don't have any idea how much I don't like this," he said quietly. "I blink, and suddenly I'm not _me_ anymore. Suddenly wanting blood on my hands. And now you're going to have to go through this too..." He visibly gathered himself together. "Cologne, are you going to help me or Akane..." He paused. "God damn you... Ukyo too right? And Ryoga." He barely waited for her nod. "Are you going to get these things out of us? Make it so we don't become someone else again?"

Cologne shook her head. "I'm sorry. I honestly wish that I could. But the fact is that you are quite possible the world's only hope against the darkness, as trite as that may sound. I can help train you; teach you to take control of these powers so that they no longer rule you. But I would not excise them even if it were possible." She stood up. "I think that it may be best if you go home to your families and say your goodbyes. The rest of you will be coming to live at the Nekohanten for a time. It will be necessary to train you together so that we can..."

Ranma laughed; a bitter, cynical bark. "Screw that, and screw you. I'm going home, and if I ever end up at your restaurant again it'll be a mistake neither of us'll forget in a hurry." He began walking toward the door. "Are you coming, Akane? I'd let her stew in her own mess if I was you."

She bit her lip. "Yeah... I'll be along in a minute Ranma. I just want to talk about a few things with her first."

A slow nod was forthcoming. "Well, okay. Just don't spend too long. You can't trust her." He turned again, and walked from the office. The force of the door slamming shut behind him nearly removed it from its hinges.

Cologne sighed. "Impetuous boy. He never stops to consider the consequences..." She stopped. Akane was glowering at her with a fury that had, up until now, been quite admirably hidden. "...Right. What, exactly, is it that you wanted to speak with me about?"

"I have a few questions, even if Ranma doesn't. But don't think I'm any happier with you than Ranma is. You've put both of us through hell before now, so I can't say I'm too surprised. But this is... well, it's beyond what I thought even you would do."

"Technically, this came before any of the other things..." Cologne murmured.

"Fine. Whatever. It doesn't make a difference." Akane was beginning to calm down. The act of telling off Cologne and, more importantly, _living through it_ was a heady experience for her. "Okay, question one: It's not coincidence that all of your 'candidates' ended up in Nerima, is it?"

Cologne grinned. "Not at all, although it took surprisingly little manipulation to get you all here. We were prepared to expend a great deal of resources to accomplish the task, and almost none ended up having to be used." She leaned back. "Ask on, child."

Akane frowned. She disliked being called 'child'. "And why Nerima?"

Cologne shrugged. "Out of all the candidates, your family appeared to be the least inclined to move. It was judged easier to move everyone else into position around you. Expedience, nothing more."

"If you say so. And finally..." Akane leaned forward until her face was quite close to Cologne's. "Why did it take you so long to tell us? Wouldn't it have been easier if you gave us some warning?"

The old woman glared at her, and then, with a lightning motion, flung Akane back into her chair. Akane winced, and rubbed her shoulder where the staff had struck her.

"That's enough cheek from you, child. I'm willing to take that kind of abuse from Ranma. His actions have earned him the right to talk to me like that. Yours have not." She sighed expansively. "We had hoped that you'd develop into more..." She paused. "Well adjusted is the best term, probably. Yes, we had hoped you'd be better adjusted if you were allowed to live normal lives. We didn't want a collection of deranged psychopaths with godlike powers running amok." The old lady gave a chuckle of genuine amusement. "That backfired more than a little. Out of all them, yours is the most normal personality, and that's certainly saying something." She laughed again. Akane frowned. While she was perfectly aware of this fact, she didn't like hearing it from Cologne.

"No, we should have expected this. You children were in contact with the essences of these dark gods from infancy. That was bound to have unforeseen effects on your personalities." She shrugged. "Ah well. I, at least, still believe that you are suitable for the task."

Akane folded her arms. "And what if Ranma doesn't want to help you? You aren't exactly on my good list either."

Cologne snorted. "Please, child. He can posture all he wants, but the next time he hurts someone because he can't control himself, he'll come straight back to me. And a good thing, too." She stood up, and moved toward the door. "Not many are given the chance to save the world. You can't tell me that you've never dreamed of it. This is your chance to be a valued member of something greater than yourself. You'll want to think about it." She opened the door, and exited. The sound of the door shutting was rather quieter than the last time.

For a while, Akane sat there, fuming. If only Cologne hadn't been so... so damn _right_ about her desire to contribute, to be more than just the kidnapped maiden or the object of cruel jokes about her domestic abilities... It was all she could do to stop herself from pursuing the old woman down the street to give her a good thumping. Only the sure knowledge that she would be the one who received all the injuries kept her in her chair.

After a while, Dr. Tofu came in with a hot cup of tea, and offered it too her. Akane took it from him gratefully.

"Well?" he said, pulling up the chair next to her, and trying not to look too hard at the destroyed furniture on the other side of the room. "Do you have any idea what you're going to do next?"

She mulled it over for a bit. "First of all, I'm going home. Then I'm probably going to get into an argument with Ranma, and hit him a few times."

Tofu laughed. "Of course. Just another day, hmm?" He paused. "But first, I think you better get a couple of stitches for that cut."

Her hand flew up towards her scalp, and touched the once again forgotten wound. "Oh. Right. But please hurry, it's getting dark."

* * *

Across town, there was a stirring in the air. If there had been any onlookers, they might have described it as a kind of slow, horizontal whirlwind. Certainly a few stray leaves and bits of trash that littered the back alley were caught up in it, and blown about as though adhering to a water wheel. But that would not have explained why it seemed that, from every direction, the bits of debris were getting smaller, as though disappearing into a distance that surely did not exist inside this small space between buildings.

It would not have explained the flickering scarlet light.

And it certainly would not have explained the massive, snake-like form that slowly forced its way through the aperture, and then stood there, staring with unblinking red eyes out upon the busy Nerima street. Certain drugs may have been able to do so, but even they would not have explained what happened to the first person that stumbled rather unsteadily into the alleyway.


	4. Chapter 3

Souls and Shadows

Part 1: A Door Once Opened.

Chapter 3

-12 Years Ago-

Ranma had just turned six years old, and nobody had noticed. Not that it was anyone's fault in particular; it was just that that there were far more important things to worry about than a child's birthday. Money had been tight lately, and there didn't appear to be the prospect of receiving any more while he and his father lived in Osaka. For some reason, this city appeared to have little need for the trades that wandering martial artists employed. There weren't any demons to speak of, they hadn't seen a ghost in months, and what rampaging monsters there were appeared to be keeping a low profile.

As a result, Ranma's gi; that kempo uniform that was his only set of clothing, was patched and too tight, and more than a little frayed. He was aware that he stood out among the better-dressed natives of the city, but shrugged it off with a child's studied lack of embarrassment. He'd gone through times with little food before, and was more than capable of either swiping or scrounging what he needed. And he'd spent more time in tents throughout his life than under a proper roof, so he hardly missed the shelter.

Still, there were some things that even a life trained to privation found reason to miss. And so Ranma stood there, his nose literally pressed up against the glass of the bicycle shop, staring with undisguised longing at the wares displayed in the window. He looked, despite the martial-arts attire and pigtail, very much like a caricature from a Dickens novel.

Sighing, he finally turned away, leaving a visible streak on the glass. He couldn't have explained the reasons for his desire for a bicycle. Though only six, he could already run faster on foot than most bicyclists, and he could easily carry his share of the provisions. Still, being six and having had your birthday passed up was a terrible thing, he thought.

He likewise couldn't have said why he chose to walk back home by way of the school that day. Normally he avoided the more settled native children of the city, partly because his father told him to, and partly because they had a tendency to make cruel jokes at his expense. It was only when he saw the row of shiny bicycles parked out near the front that he realized the purpose of his excursion. Living with Genma for his entire life had already left a mark on his concept of the word 'property,' and simply being six was really excuse enough for being a selfish little bastard. So he hopped the fence, selected a bicycle that he thought suited him, and, after selecting an appropriate rock, began pounding upon the chain that held it fast to the rack.

Even for a boy as strong as Ranma, stone makes a poor weapon against steel. Long minutes past undisturbed while he patiently chipped away at the one obstacle between himself and his new bike. Until he heard the approaching footsteps behind him, it never occurred to him that there would be others. Turning, he found himself confronted by a group of schoolboys. They were older than he was, perhaps eight or ten. He wasn't very good at judging ages. One of them stepped forward, indignation evident on his young face.

"Hey! What are you doing with my bike?" The boy roughly shoved Ranma out of the way as he bent to look at it. "You've scratched the paint up, you butt hole!" The childish insult sent a spike of anger through Ranma's mind. Even then, he'd had something of a temper. He stepped forward, intending to punch the offending kid, when other comments brought him up short.

"Hey kid, why you wearing that gi? Playing Karate master?"

"Look at him, probably hasn't had a bath _ever_..."

"Naw, look at how torn up it is... Probably his only clothes..."

"Little thief..."

"He's gonna cry! He's gonna cry!"

"...A _street_ kid. No mom or dad, probably."

"Well, who'd want 'im?"

Ranma gave an angry cry. "I do too have a mom and dad!" The laughter increased, and fat tears of embarrassment began rolling down his face.

The first boy, the one whose bike Ranma had attempted to steal, pushed him in the chest, hard. His face was screwed up in something resembling anger mingled with a vicious pleasure available only to the pre-adolescent and to those who never truly leave that stage of life. "Where are they then? Maybe you shoulda waited for daddy before trying to take stuff that doesn't belong to you." He reached forward to push Ranma again. This time, Ranma stumbled back. Someone threw a rock. It missed, but something snapped inside him nonetheless.

He jumped at the first child, snarling. Before his opponent could move, Ranma had already completed a cruel punch to the throat. He tottered backward, clutching at his neck, and leaving himself opened to a flurry of blows to the kidneys and groin. Whimpering, the older child collapsed to the ground.

Still crying, Ranma turned on the others, who were still standing there in shocked amazement. He didn't wait for them to make the first move, to decide that loyalty to their comrade was worth more than fear of a boy at least two years younger than they. He launched himself amongst them, recalling his father's lessons on fighting multiple opponents. Every limb lashed out, giving his foes little time to strike back, or form defenses.

Some attempted to run away from this miniature whirlwind of pain. Precise blows to the back of the knees, or to pressure points in the thighs discouraged this. Ranma was growing more elated by the second. Despite their size, and despite their numbers, none of them could come close to touching him. An open handed blow to the nose of one, and he went down, blood streaming. A roundhouse kick to another, and he fell, stunned or unconscious. His only opponent up till this point had been his own father, and thus he'd never had the experience of fighting an opponent weaker than himself. He found that his anger was almost entirely replaced by the sheer exhilaration of it.

By this time, the small mob of children was in chaos, completely routed by this seemingly elemental force, which stubbornly refused to let them escape. They attempted to break off, to run for cover, but Ranma intercepted each of them, and with brutal efficiency pounded them with fists and feet until they were in too much pain to move.

"Who cryin' now?" he crowed, looking about for more targets. Indeed, tears were flowing in copious amounts from those of his opponents still conscious. Slowly, he became dimly aware that he had an audience. It seemed as though half of the school had shown up to stare in horrified fascination as he humiliated the other boys. A pair of teachers stood at the inner edge of the ring that had formed around him, obviously shocked, but too nervous to approach him.

Still in the throws of bloodlust, Ranma took a step forward, and watched with some pleasure as the crowd moved back, stepping on each other's feet in their haste to get away.

"Aren't you going to make fun of me?" he yelled, clenching his fists. When nobody answered, he moved forward again. This time, he was intercepted.

In front of him stood his father. Ranma instinctively took a step back. This was not Genma as he would be seen many years from now; fat and lazy and disreputable. No, the Genma that Ranma saw then was almost a force of nature; powerful, and wise, and utterly invincible.

Genma looked about, his face blank as he surveyed his son's handiwork. The unconscious forms of no less than a dozen boys lay about the schoolyard. More blood than he cared to see when children fought as well. "Good God, boy... What have you been doing?" His voice was oddly distant.

Ranma suddenly had to fight back tears once more. "Th...They... They made fun of me! Said I got no mom or dad... Said I was dirty 'an poor 'an a thief, 'an... 'an..." His voice trailed off into a whimper.

With one last, despairing look about the schoolyard, Genma reached forward and grabbed Ranma firmly be the collar. Then, with a superhuman leap that carried him over the walls, he was away. They traveled between buildings, and atop roofs, away from prying eyes and faster than a car could afford to go within the city limits until they reached the rooftop where Genma had last night pitched their tent. There, he sat Ranma down. He gave the boy a few seconds to cry, before slapping him across the face so hard that it nearly unhinged Ranma's jaw.

Ranma sat back up from where the blow had knocked him flat, stunned as much by the concept that his father would do such a thing as by the force of it. Genma had struck him many times, but up till now, it had always been in combat, as part of training. Never before had he been hit as punishment. He began to speak, but a second slap cut his voice short.

Genma looked down on him, his face set into a rare, solemn expression. "Boy... Ranma. What you just did can never happen again, understand?" When Ranma shook his head, Genma sighed. He sat down next to his son, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Ranma, the arts that people like you and I practice set us apart from normal people. We are not, and can never be, bound by exactly the same rules. And so there is an agreement between us, between the people like us, who dance across the storm, and those who are chained to the earth."

Ranma nodded, not understanding, but knowing better than to interrupt his father when he waxed eloquent.

"We do things for them that they cannot do for themselves. We fight the foes that they cannot bring themselves to believe in, and solve the problems that they will not allow themselves to see. And because they understand, in a way, that we are necessary, they allow us to exist." Genma sighed heavily. "But there are conditions, understand? We might steal from them, when we need to. We might show them up, and we can certainly defend ourselves from them if we have to, but _no more than that_. We do not _destroy_ them. We do not kill, as you came very close to doing today." His voice had gone thick, and Ranma realized with a sudden shock that his father was very close to tears himself. Genma removed his glasses, wiped one dirty sleeve across his eyes, and went on.

"Because if we do, they will hunt us down, using weapons we cannot fight, and they will kill us. And our arts will disappear forever. Do you understand, boy? We live because they let us."

Ranma nodded, and found, to his own astonishment, that he _did_ understand what his father was talking about. Far from the elation he had felt earlier, he now felt as though he were about to vomit.

"Boy, I want you to promise me that you will _never_ again do what you did today. Promise me that you'll control yourself, that you won't do that kind of harm to someone, no matter what they've done to you." He stood up, and once again seemed to blot out the sun, at least from the perspective of a six year old. "I won't have my son becoming a killer."

Ranma nodded, fighting back the tears of shame that were even now squeezing between his eyelids. "I promise, dad..."

* * *

-12 Years Later-

Ranma walked slowly along the darkening streets between the Tendo Dojo and Tofu's office, rather than running along fence railings or across rooftops; his normal method of travel. Those passersby that saw him attempted to steer clear without making it obvious that they were doing so. Ranma was a bit of a celebrity around there, after all, and they knew enough to recognize the obvious signs of a foul mood. He muttered as he went, grumbling over the general injustice of the world, and specifically its attitude towards him. This did not increase the desire of others to come near to him.

He heard her footsteps rapidly approaching long before Akane caught up to him, and turned to meet her. The cut on her scalp had been more thoroughly washed than he had been able to accomplish, and two neat stitches were visible just below the hairline.

_It doesn't make her any less beautiful,_ he thought, and then gaped inwardly. _Where the hell did _that_ come from?_ True, the sight of Akane had long caused all kinds of odd sensations and thoughts, but rarely had they been so blatant as that. _I must really be out of it._

Akane watched quizzically as Ranma stared at her, apparently unaware of what he was doing. "Are you alright?" she asked. He jumped as though startled, causing her to grin. "Well, okay. I'm not distracting you, am I?" She knew she shouldn't play with him like that, but it was a rare bit of humor these days, and she didn't want to pass it up.

"Hmm. Maybe a bit," he said. They continued to walk for a while in silence. The sound of passing vehicles, and the subdued speech of pedestrians filled up the gap normally occupied by conversation.

"So, what did..." began Ranma, at nearly the same instant that Akane said "Well, I talked..."

They both broke off, and stared at each other momentarily, before Ranma gave a wan but still genuine smile. "Hey, you first."

Akane nodded, smiling herself. "I talked to Cologne some more after you left. She seems serious about this."

Ranma laughed. "I bet she is. Too bad for her."

She looked at him severely. "I believe her, you know."

He nodded. "Me too. She's never gone and really _lied_ to us before. Maybe stretched the truth here 'an there, but she ain't lied. If she says demons 'an dark gods 'an stuff like that's coming, I believe her. I just don't give a damn."

Akane eyed him, disbelieving. " You can't be serious. If we're really needed..."

He shook his head. "No. I'll help fight 'em, no problem. But I ain't doing... whatever it was that I did today. Not ever again. And since that's what she wants, I'm not working with her either." His voice was flat, a statement of fact rather than opinion. "And if you knew what it was like, you wouldn't help her either."

She sighed. "Well, I don't know what it's like. I guess it must be pretty awful..."

"Worse 'n cats."

She stared at him. "Wow," she said. There was a long silence as her mind tried to cope with Ranma's statement. Finally, she attempted another overture. "But I guess you become really powerful, right? At least there's that..." Her voice trailed off as Ranma began shaking his head again.

"Hell no. Yeah, I guess I get strong. I snapped Ryoga's arm like it was nothing..." He winced at the faint memory of it. "I can just barely remember it. It was like the whole world was in slow motion." He shook his head again. "But it wasn't _my_ strength. It was this goddamn _thing_ in me." His fist lashed out, and made a small indent in a nearby concrete wall. He stopped walking, attempting to calm himself down. Akane stopped alongside him, fighting the suddenly powerful instinct to comfort him.

"I think I understand..." she began, and then stopped as Ranma looked back toward her angrily. She rolled her eyes, refusing to be intimidated. "I meant that I understand as well as anyone can, alright?" He nodded, grudgingly. She sighed again. "I wonder what we're going to tell our parents, though."

He grunted. "Why do we need to tell them anything? They'll find out soon enough anyway, if demons and things start showing up. And my pop'd probably try to put me through some kinda special training or something. And _your_ dad'd completely freak out."

She looked at him pityingly. "Well, that's true as far as it goes. But what I mean is, don't you think that they might already know what's going on?"

Ranma stopped stock still, and turned towards his fiancée. "What do you mean?" he said.

She grimaced. "Well, this was supposed to have happened to us when we were infants, right? I don't know about you, but my parents never left me alone for very long when I was a baby. So how could Cologne's friends have put these demon souls inside us without their knowing?"

He stared at her for several long moments, completely silent. If she listened hard enough, Akane thought she might have been able to hear outraged thoughts cascading through his mind. A twitch had begun to develop under his right eye.

"Sonofabitch..." he whispered. Then he turned and began running toward the dojo. Akane followed as quickly as she could, although she was badly overmatched by his speed. She attempted to keep up regardless; suddenly certain that for the second time that day, Ranma had murder on his mind.

* * *

The Tendo home was relatively quite that evening, despite the presence of Happosai. The withered old master of Anything Goes Martial Arts was currently captivated by a television program involving women possessed of figures that were only of dubious possibility frolicking about a beach in various states of undress. The rest of the household believed that it was worth the pain of having to listen to his undisguised squeals of joy to escape his otherwise interminable attentions.

Soun was, for once, not engaged in a game of 'go' with Genma, and was instead settled at the table reading a paperback novel. Occasionally, he would surreptitiously peak over the battered cover and risk a glance at the same program that Happosai was watching. Genma was busy going over a large stack of financial records with Nodoka; bills concerning the impending reconstruction of their demolished house. Or, rather, Nodoka was busy keeping Genma attentive to the task by means of both persuasive argument and sharp blade.

The abandoned game table sat in one corner, almost contriving to sulk from lack of attention.

Nabiki was in her own room, going over her own set of financial reports, and Kasumi was, as was her wont, busy providing the rest of the family with cups of expertly made tea. Even Happosai was provided for.

This scene of rare tranquility was shattered when Ranma entered, slamming the door open with such force that it flew off its track. Ignoring the quizzical looks of all present, he marched over to his father, gripped him by the collar of his gi, and slammed him forcefully into the wall.

Genma blinked, stunned by the sudden blow. "Something the matter, boy?"

"Damn right there is," Ranma growled. "You sold me again, didn't you? Old bastard, I oughta..." His voice devolved into a frustrated scream, and he shook his father to emphasize the point. Genma's glasses were dislodged, hanging from one ear in a rather comic fashion.

Genma looked across the room at Soun, his face a picture of helpless confusion. Soun returned the gaze, shrugging. "Don't look at me, Saotome. This isn't the first time one of your, ah, 'business deals' have come back to haunt you."

"But I didn't do anything!" protested Genma, attempting to right his glasses. Ranma slapped his hand away, preventing him.

"Bullshit! So you just didn't happen to notice a buncha secret society types coming in and doin' rituals on me when I was a baby? I mean, even you weren't that bad of a parent..." Ranma dropped his father. It was only when Genma's feet touched wood again that he realized that he had been lifted several inches from the floor. "Alright, pop. I want you to tell me exactly what happened. I'll beat it out of you if I have to, but it's been a long day, 'an I'd rather not mess the room up any more."

Genma shook his head, bewildered. "Ranma, what you're talking about just doesn't ring a bell... No! Wait!" he cried, as Ranma stepped toward him again. "I'm telling the truth! I mean, sure, I've sold you before. Lots of times! But I always remembered to get you back!" He gazed around the room for support, as though this were something to be proud of. Soun groaned, Kasumi sighed, and Happosai snickered. Nodoka's face had gone deathly pale, and she was clutching her cloth-wrapped katana for support.

Ranma's eyes narrowed. "Oh, well that's a real convincing argument, pops. Care to try again?"

Kasumi laid a cool hand on his shoulder. "Ranma, why don't you settle down and tell us what this is about? Maybe then we'll understand why you're so upset."

The anger that had built up inside him washed away, as it always did when Kasumi spoke to him. Now feeling only a residue of bitterness towards Genma, he sat down on the floor. "Yeah, fine. Let's see..."

Ranma's introduction to the events of the past several hours was interrupted as Akane finally caught up to him, gasping for breath as she stumbled into the room. Attempting to race her fiancé was an exercise in futility at the best of times, much less when he was as angry as he was now, and she was near exhausted as a result. She looked at Genma, and sighed in relief. "Oh... good... You haven't.... killed him... yet." She sat down heavily, trying to ignore the sweat that was trickling across her cut, causing annoying prickles of pain.

Genma rubbed the back of his head where it had been knocked against the wall. "Not for lack of trying, I think."

Ranma looked up at him, irritated. "Oh, you'll _know_ when I try, you lyin' bastard..."

Souns stood up, interrupting the both of them. "Enough of this. I want to know what's going on here. Akane, what happened to you?" His face was concerned, but had not yet broken into tears. Beside Genma, Nodoka twisted her katana worriedly.

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind knowing myself." Nabiki's voice announced her presence as she strode unconcernedly into the middle of the gathering. "What?" she said, watching everyone's nonplussed expressions. "I heard Ranma shouting, and some thumps, and I decided to come down and watch. It's like having a floor show in your own home." She sat down next to where Soun had been sitting. "So, go on. Don't mind me."

Akane nodded. She'd mostly managed to get her breath back by this time; she was in very good shape, after all. "Alright then. Now, this is what I've been able to figure out about what's happened..." She proceeded to explain a far more coherent version of the events of the day than Ranma had been prepared to give, and as a result he found himself keeping quiet except for when he genuinely had something to add. Despite himself, he discovered that he was growing impressed with her ability to keep calm in the middle of all this.

"And so we think," a nod here towards Ranma which was gratefully accepted, "that for these 'Guardians of the Veil' to have done this to us, our parents must have known something about it. And I think that both of us would like to know why you allowed it." Her voice was still calm, but carried an underlying sense of anger. Ranma's gaze echoed her statement.

For the part of her audience, their reactions were varied. Kasumi showed polite interest during the whole of it, but offered no questions. Happosai became visibly interested when demons were mentioned, Nabiki when secret societies were. Genma began to look ill, and Soun began weeping noisily at the descriptions of the turmoil Ranma was going through, and which Akane would soon have to. Nodoka was shaking near the end of it, staring at nothing.

Ranma noted all of this, but continued to shoot worried glances toward his mother. She was taking all of this worse than he had expected, and he was beginning to suspect that he might have hurt her somehow. The familiar guilt was beginning to worm its way into his gut by the time the story ended.

Genma scratched his head. "Look, this a pretty incredible story, but we've all seen some pretty incredible things. I wouldn't have believed Mount Phoenix if I hadn't seen it myself."

"Thanks for mentioning that, pops..." grumbled Ranma.

"But as sorry as I am for all that's going on," the older Saotome continued, "I still don't remember anything of the kind. I know for a fact that I'd never have allowed anyone to do anything so despicable to my only son..."

"Except you, right?" Ranma's anger was growing again. "C'mon, pop, pull the other one. I know that you had something to do with this!"

Genma began to protest once again, when Nodoka laid a restraining hand on his knee. She licked her lips nervously before speaking. "Ranma... Son. Your father, however dishonorable he may have been in the past, is this once being truthful with you. He had nothing to do with this." Her voice was weak and brittle with unshed tears, and her face was dead white. "I'm afraid that this time the blame lies with me."

He looked at his mother disbelievingly. _No way...This isn't possible. She wouldn't have done anything to hurt me..._

Nodoka's hands traced a vague pattern through the air, as though she couldn't decide what to do with them. "I'm so sorry, my son..." She began to weep openly, her own tears causing Soun to halt his blubbering, and Genma to awkwardly place his arm around her shoulder, unsure of how to comfort her.

"S...So...Sorry..." she continued, unheeding. "But... but there wasn't any money... Genma hadn't had a job in such a long time, and we were in debt, and... and then came these people..." She placed her hand against her eyes, and tried to choke back her sobs. "They offered me money... more than I could afford to turn away. They said it wouldn't hurt you!" Her voice had become a wail. "What else could I have done? I didn't know this would happen. I watched the whole time... the whole time..." She finally broke down, lapsing into incoherent weeping.

Ranma stared at her, mouth slightly open in astonishment. He moved over to her, and placed his own arm around her, opposite his father's. "Hey, it's okay, mom. It's all right, I promise. We can work through this, 'kay? It'll just take some getting used to..." He was vaguely astonished to hear the lies popping out of his mouth, but he couldn't leave his mother in pain like this.

"Hmmph. You wouldn't have been so forgiving if it had been me," muttered Genma. This earned him a withering glance from his son.

Across the room, Soun absently lit a cigarette. He puffed on it for a few moments before staring again at the broken gathering of Saotomes. "Well... as long as you think that you'll be all right..." He sighed, wondering if that was how he looked during his own crying jags. He turned back toward Akane. "Likewise, I'm afraid that I have to deny involvement in this. Unless your mother was also involved in this business, I can't explain how they got to you." He sighed again. "What a mess. Demons and evil gods, and ancient wars, and all the rest of it. And the old woman wants you to move in with her. I can't say I approve of the idea, not after what she's done to you. Besides, Ranma can handle a few demons without her help."

* * *

Across town, death was being dealt. Hoshiro was a small time businessman, a paper pusher at an electronics firm. His life was positively dull for someone who lived in Nerima. He got up every day, said goodbye to his wife and children, and went to work. Then he would come home, eat dinner, interact with his family, and finally go to sleep. Hoshiro's life was placid. Hoshiro's life was ordinary. Hoshiro's life was ending.

_My god, my god this can't be happening to me. This sort of thing only happens to the crazies, not people like me. This can't be real, it can't, it can't, it..._

His last thoughts trailed off into nothingness as his soul was forcibly ripped from his body, and devoured by the snake-like being that held him in his coils. It consumed the morsel slowly, relishing the terror that suffused it. This ground had been rich for feeding, and its power was growing with each new victim.

The sound of people coming to investigate the man's screams drew closer. It hissed, and melded into the darkness. The people of this world had painful weapons, it seemed, and it did not want to feel their bite again until it was ready. There were plenty of other people who walked foolishly alone in this city. By the time dawn came, it should be nearly up to full power.

* * *

Nabiki had excused herself from the others almost as soon as Nodoka had begun crying. It wasn't as though she was truly disturbed by the sight of grief, but all those tears from someone other than her father did make her a bit uncomfortable. And she had work to do anyway.

She'd barely been able to contain her excitement as she listened to Akane's tale. Demons and Angels and possession and invasions were all very interesting, she was sure, and certainly important. What she was truly intrigued by, however, were these 'Guardians of the Veil.'

A secret society founded _thousands_ of years ago, followers of a vanished race of gods! And who even now commanded enough clout to manipulate individuals into living where they chose, without any of them suspecting. And they did more than that too, Nabiki was sure.

She was beginning to put the picture together in her head, even if Akane was unable to do so. Not that Akane was stupid, she reminded herself. She just didn't have the right kind of mind for this. Her mind was all straight lines and sharp edges. It preferred to bulldoze its way through the dirt mounds of life's problems. Nabiki's was a maze of twisted curves. She preferred to make the mounds move themselves.

_How much control would a society like this have to have? _She thought, climbing the stairs back to her room. _Quite a bit, probably. They'd have to have agents across the world to even find these 'children.' Either that, or some kind of magical devices that could do it for them, and that's almost as impressive. And then they'd have to have the monetary resources to bribe the right people. _She threw open the door of her room, and flung herself into the chair in front of her computer. It was slim, black, and obscenely overpowered. It was probably the best investment she'd ever made, and she quite liked it. A few clicks of the mouse later, and she'd brought up a collection of files in a folder titled 'Nerima Oddities.'

_All the weirdness finally makes sense. Why the news never seems to show the bizarre things that go on here. Why complaints about public property damage never seem to find their way to this house. Why nobody in Japan outside of this town seems to really believe in the supernatural, even though we get them here all the time. Hell, it even explains why a bunch of foreign nationals can just show up one day and set up a business without any warning at all!_

Her hand flickered over the keyboard, calling up lists of city and government employees. She began circling the positions that would be essential for such an organization to tap. The people in charge of construction permits. News authorities. Policemen. She sifted through the information, and slowly she began to call forth the patterns in the dross. Placing Cologne at the arbitrary center of the web that was emerging, she smiled.

People often called Nabiki Tendo a mercenary, and indeed she was concerned with money. It bought her nice things, and, when properly invested, allowed her to make even more money.

But the only currency that had ever really mattered was information.

* * *

Ranma yawned, stretching his arms high above his head. The strange occurrence of his being genuinely allied with his father in the pursuit of calming Nodoka had been, at first, a bit of a novelty. By the time the two of them, with the aid of Kasumi, managed to put her to bed, however, he was already tiring of Genma's alternately overwrought and venomous behavior. One moment commiserating melodramatically with his wife, and the next implying that somehow all of this was _Ranma's_ fault... His fists clenched hard, causing another uncomfortable pull in his scars.

Akane was standing outside his room waiting for him. She smiled wanly at him as he approached.

"Is she going to be alright?" she asked.

"Dunno. I've never seen her like this. I just hope that pops can get her to tomorrow without doin' something stupid." He shook his head. "Funny, ain't it? I still trust her a helluva lot more than I do him."

Akane grinned, more genuinely this time. "Me too." Her smile faded. "Have you thought about what's going to happen tomorrow? About what we're going to do?"

Ranma shrugged. "Well, I thought we'd go to school. It is Monday tomorrow, right?" Akane nodded. "Right. Well, while we're there, I thought I'd try to talk to Ukyo. Cologne's probably gotten to her by now, an' I'd like to make sure she isn't too freaked out."

He entirely failed to notice that Akane's smile had become brittle, and her right eye was beginning to twitch. He continued speaking, unaware of his headlong rush into certain doom.

"I mean, she's a bit more normal than you or me, right? She never really had to deal with the same weird stuff we did. Taro, an' Saffron, and the rest of that...She might be pretty uspset, y'know?"

Akane voice was tight. "Absolutely. You should probably try to comfort her in her hour of need. After all, nobody else needs you right now."

"Yeah..." He paused. "'Cept Mom. But I think pops has got that end for now." He paused again, and looked at Akane. "You know, you might want to make sure your dad is okay. He seemed alright at the end there, but who knows when he might start up agaiOW!"

Clutching his shin at the point where Akane had kicked him, hard, Ranma performed a rather ungraceful one-legged dance before collapsing to the floor. Akane whirled away indignantly, walked over to her own room, entered, and slammed the door. Ranma pulled himself up by his door handle, still wincing at the twinges of pain shooting through his leg.

"Dammit. Got a kick like a friggin MULE!" He shouted that last part, and was rewarded with an answering cry of "Transsexual Pervert!" from Akane's room. Grumbling, he entered his own room, shut off the lights, and lay down on the futon. Staring up at the ceiling, he waited to fall asleep.

Tomorrow was going to be a brand new day.

* * *

And in the hidden shadows of the forest behind Furinkan High School, the serpent slept. It had taken its fill that night, and was content. Away from the glare of street lamps and headlights and shouts and screams, it curled itself around a pine tree, and idly snapped it in half.

This world seemed to be a paradise. Away from its masters, and their instruments of pain, it had found whole arenas of pleasure it never knew existed. The death of these few humans was only the beginning, of course. Here it was, on an unexploited world with none to stop it... The slaughter certainly didn't have to stop here.

It did not think any of this in words. Rather, it dimly perceived this concept of its corpse-filled future as a vague desire running sluggishly through its mind. Thought and planning did not come easily to its breed. Still, it was patient enough. It had taken its fill, and it could sense the residual life force of hundreds in the nearby building. Tomorrow they too could be its prey.


	5. Chapter 4

Souls and Shadows

Part 1: A Door Once Opened

Chapter 4

The sun rose over Nerima, bright and rather hotter than was generally considered comfortable. All across the city, people who had lain dormant through the night were beginning to stir to life, and went about their morning routines. The Tendo house was no exception to this, although their concept of 'morning routine' was a far cry from the experience of most.

Despite Ranma's early warning to Genma that he wasn't in the mood for one of their morning spars, Genma had attacked him almost as soon as he had come downstairs. Consequently, Ranma's backpack was lying unattended in the corner, while Genma was lying unconscious at the bottom of the koi Pond. Ranma was still in a bit of a foul mood after the events of the previous day, and the act of taking it out on his father had utterly failed to impinge on his conscience.

He walked back into the dining room, dusting off his hands. He paused to pick up his backpack, and then sat down at the table, where Kasumi had laid out an excellent breakfast. His mother and Happosai were absent, but everyone else was there already. None of them seemed to notice when he sat down. Shrugging, he reached for the nearest pickle and speared it with his chopstick. He was about to transfer it to his mouth when the television news program in which the others were engrossed caught his attention as well.

-"...No suspects have yet been named in connection with the sudden rash of unexplained deaths, but according to Police representative Yoro Tekeshi a number of leads are being investigated..." The scene switched from the solemn, mustachioed anchor to the outside of police headquarters. A harried looking gentleman of middle years was fair being mobbed by a collection of reporters, all of whom appeared eager to get their own microphone as close to him as possible without shoving it up his nose. Attempting to clear himself some breathing space, the man spoke. "We are investigating several possible avenues at this time, and we assure you that despite these unfortunate incidents, the citizens of this city are as safe as ever."

This ambiguous statement incited a frenzy of question, most of which mingled into insensibility. Finally, one clear question broke through the bedlam.

"Sir, what about rumors that all twelve of the bodies carried no lethal wounds? That this is the work of some kind of untraceable killer?"

The police representative glared at the off-screen questioner. "We have no comment at this time."-

Slowly, Nabiki and Akane turned to look at Ranma. He simply stared back at them. Finally, Akane broke in. "So... Demons?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. Who know? In this town, it could be space aliens." He shoveled in a few mouthfuls of rice. "Nothing we can do about it yet. If we see somethin' going on, we'll help out, but I don't know how to track down demons. Do you?"

"Cologne might," muttered Akane.

Ranma glared at her, finished his rice, shouldered his backpack, and walked out the door. Akane waited a few more moments before uttering a rare curse and following him.

Nabiki chuckled. "Aw, they're so cute when they're pissed off."

* * *

The Nerima City Morgue was, despite the events that occurred within the town, not conspicuously busier than any other establishment of its kind. Most of the citizens had learned with remarkable alacrity exactly how to avoid the fallout from the numerous super powered brawls that took place on their streets, relatively few were ever injured by the slightly more unexpected paranormal activity that was part and parcel of Nerima life.

According to the mute evidence of the twelve bodies lying alongside one another within its walls, this fact was, however, obsolete.

Dr. Ono Tofu and Cologne walked among them, observing them closely. The city coroner stood outside the room, giving them plenty of privacy. Technically, this was illegal, and certainly unethical: Both Law and propriety prohibited leaving two unqualified individuals alone with the remains. But he was bought and paid for, and he suffered not even a twinge of conscience at his act. And they certainly seemed to know more about what was going on than he did.

Tofu traced a gloved hand along a pattern of bruises marking the arms and chest of a young woman, perhaps twenty-five years of age. They weren't enough to warrant the obvious lack of movement in the corpse. _The way they're arranged... Constriction? No...there's no broken bones, no strangulation marks, no hemorrhaging. It looks like she was just held in place, while..._ He shook his head.

Cologne looked quizzically at him over the body of a middle-aged businessman. "Any theories?"

He nodded.. "According to the report, there's no sign of drugs or poison... other than alcohol in some of them, and PCP in one... but not enough for an overdose in any case. And the symptoms are inconsistent with OD. The wounds are hardly worth mentioning. They would have healed in a couple of days except..." He trailed off.

"Except that the victims are dead, you were going to say?" Cologne tapped her chin with a gnarled finger. "You don't like this, do you?"

He shrugged. "I'm not fond of dead bodies. I try to do my best so that I don't see any." His attempt at flippancy hung in the air with all the buoyancy of granite. He sighed. "Really, I'm fine. It's just that this is so obviously not human work... I didn't expect this sort of thing to happen so soon."

"So you're sure it's demonic in nature?"

"No explainable cause of death, and yet we still have twelve dead bodies. Precious few other things it could be. It'll take a deep scan to be certain, though. Whatever did this didn't leave any surface signs." He paused. "Should you or should I? You're better at this than I am, but..."

Cologne laughed, the sound echoing far too loudly in the corpse-occupied room. "Flattery from you? How novel." She laid her withered hand flat against the thigh of the businessman's remains. "Yes, I'll do it. Hold on a bit..."

She concentrated, sending out skeins of precisely directed ki deep into the cells of the body, searching out the residual echoes of the man's life force. There was nothing. She frowned, and concentrated deeper, sweeping her search across him again and again. Finally she pulled back, satisfied. "Well, that's one answer down." She rubbed her brow. That kind of work could be exhausting.

Tofu looked at her, ill-concealed impatience evident upon his face. "Which is?"

"How this man died. There was no life force present at all. Not a single thread. So whatever did this must have devoured it directly." She sighed. "And that means that it is certainly demonic. That Hinako woman might be able to do something like this... But from what I hear about her, I doubt even she would go this far."

"I assume you have a plan?"

Cologne nodded. "Of course. Ranma still hasn't agreed to our patronage, and as long as he does not, we'll not have Akane either. But once he understands that something like this is loose in his town, he won't stay away from us long." She gave a bitter smile. "As awful as it may seem, we may have to thank that demon."

Tofu's eyebrows raised in mild astonishment. "If you say so... Still, I don't think that I'll be shaking its hand any time soon." He looked down at the dead woman, her eyes open and staring blankly up toward the ceiling, and shuddered. "We'd better get back to the restaurant. Ryoga will probably be waking up soon, and I'd rather we were on hand to explain things to him."

* * *

Akane caught up to her fiancé barely a minute after they left the table. For once, neither of them was late for school, and Ranma was walking at a leisurely pace rather than sprinting the entire way. In deference to nigh-unbreakable habit, he was still walking atop the fence, however. He glanced down at Akane, and grunted unintelligibly.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for waiting."

He glared at her again, then suddenly hopped down from the fence, landing next to her. Twice he seemed about to speak, but closed his mouth before any words came out. Finally, looking up at the sky as if beseeching heaven for answers, he said, "Maybe we should talk to Cologne, hmm?"

She smiled slightly. "I think so. If it makes it any better, we still don't have to agree to her demands. We can just ask her if she can tell us anything about the murders, and if she refuses to help, than she's at fault."

He nodded slowly. "Right... I don't mind tracking down this demon, y'know. I mean, if there is one. I just don't want to get caught into having to..." He broke off.

"I know." Akane shook her head. "I wouldn't want to either, I guess."

"Hey, don't make it sound like it's just my problem!" Ranma gave a crooked half grin. "You're in the same boat as me, according to her."

She quickly turned away, hiding a rising blush. She couldn't really explain why it was that the thought of sharing something, even something as terrible as this obviously was with Ranma made her so inexplicably happy. _Maybe because I can really begin to understand how his life works..._

Ranma turned away, and for a split second Akane caught a glimpse of him in profile, pensive and solemn. _God, he's beautiful,_ she thought, and then mentally slapped herself. Still, it was a pleasant thought, and would possibly have continued if she hadn't suddenly seen what he was looking at.

Ukyo Kuonji was crossing over onto their street on her own way to school. Dressed in her normal boy's attire, with bandolier and battle-spatula strapped to her back, Ukyo looked only vaguely feminine, more like an uncommonly beautiful boy than anything else. Akane had seen her out of that costume enough, however, to feel a surge of jealousy shoot up her spine. It didn't appear that she had seen the other two yet, but Ranma was already walking towards her, apparently intent on speaking to her.

Akane ground her teeth together. She knew that Ukyo was Ranma's best friend, and knew that she shouldn't be jealous, knew... well, at least was pretty sure that Ranma loved her, not Ukyo. But that didn't stop her aura from spiking into jagged, flamelike edges.

"Hey, Ucchan," said Ranma, falling into step beside her.

Ukyo looked over at him, and responded in a tired voice. "Hey Ranchan. How're things?" Her eyes were slightly red, as though she hadn't had enough sleep, and her face had that peculiar slackness that came from despair. She'd worn that expression quite a lot lately, although the tiredness was new.

Ranma glanced at her critically. "You don't look so good, Ucchan. Couldn't sleep last night?"

She shook her head. "I probably could have if I tried. It's just that I was up all night, packing. Gotta get everything together for the move..." she yawned. "I just wish I had a little more notice."

He stopped walking, frozen in astonishment. Ukyo continued onward for several paces before noticing his absence, then turned back toward him. By this time, Akane had caught up, and at the sight of her Ukyo's face tightened up into a credible imitation of a smile.

"Akane! How are you? Been treating Ranma right?" Her laugh was singularly unconvincing.

Akane grimaced. Confrontations with Ukyo had become... difficult, since the failed wedding. Privately, Akane believed that Ukyo hadn't quite forgiven the rest of them for completely excluding her from the great 'adventure' at Mt. Phoenix, and certainly had not forgiven Akane for 'trapping' Ranma into that fiasco of a wedding. She hastily shoved aside the insistent whispering of her conscience, which said that he _had_ been trapped; knocked out and forcibly dressed in his tuxedo no less.

"Not too bad. Turns out that we have to save the world, but what's new?" Akane's voice was carefully neutral. Ukyo nodded, her smile fading.

Ranma, finally catching up mentally with Ukyo's last words to him, began, "Wait just a minute... The old hag, she talked to you last night, did she?" Ukyo nodded again. "And just like that, you're going to do what she says? Just abandon your business, and move in with Shampoo and Mousse?" Ukyo nodded a third time. Ranma threw his hands up in frustration. "Why? Jeeze, and here I go, thinking that you're the sane one outta this bunch..." He yelped as Akane kicked him in the ankle.

"Idiot," she murmured.

"Yeah... anyway," he said, glancing warily at his more confrontational fiancée, "That just don't make much sense. I mean, you don't owe her anything. Hell, if you believe that whole demon story of hers, she's the one who owes you." He nodded, satisfied by his infallible logic.

She looked at him sadly. "She threatened to buy out my property if I didn't do what she said. And she said she'd prevent me from ever getting a permit anywhere else. I think she was telling the truth." She looked away, and began walking again. Ranma and Akane both scurried to catch up to her. "Besides, like Akane said, we get to save the world. I can't say that's not appealing." Her face brightened, the first genuine sign of happiness Ranma had seen from her in a while. "And I'll be living with you too. We'll be able to spend a lot more time together, even if it is spent training."

Ranma grimaced, and scratched the back of his head nervously. "Uh... about that... I'm not gonna be moving in with her."

She shot a hard look at him. "Are you being a jackass again?"

He waved his hand in front of him in vigorous denial. "No, no! I'm just... Well, look. Did she tell you what happened to me yesterday?"

"No..." Ukyo's expression became suspicious. "Why?"

Ranma began telling her.

* * *

It was very dark, and all around him cold winds howled their fury. Nothing could be heard, except the wind. Nothing could be felt, except the wind. But despite the darkness, images whirled past him, shining with a kind of abstract light.

A figure, cloaked in insubstantial black armor, surrounded by a blue-black aura of shadows and menace...

Ever since you have come into my life, Ryoga, I have tolerated you...

Not words, but the memory of what had been said. And then the memory of fear, and of confusion.

_Don't interrupt me, Ryoga._

And then the memory of pain, searing through his arm until all the rest of the images flashing past faded to shades of gray. Nothing could penetrate the sheer blinding wall of the agony.

_Goodbye, Ryoga._

His mind desperately cast about, searching every which way for the salvation that he dimly remembered, even in this state. This time, no brick was thrown. This time, the hand of that being, sharp edged like a steel blade, descended toward him.

With a start, Ryoga awakened, and for a few moments lay silently on his bed, wondering what had happened to him, and where he was.

_I remember...Fighting Ranma. And then... Akane! She got hurt somehow..._Anger began to intrude upon his thoughts. _She shouldn't have been there... Dammit, Ranma, you always end up hurting her somehow..._

Then he paled as what happened next came back to him. _Holy hell...did that really happen the way I remember it?_ He looked over toward his right, and saw that his arm had been bound in a thick plaster cast. Now that he beheld it, he could feel the unaccountable numbness that came from torment fought off by painkillers.

There was an IV connected to his left arm. Contrary to every hospital wake-up scene in every movie he'd ever observed, he did not immediately attempt to rip it out. Instead he sat there for a few thoughtful moments.

_Well, I guess that means it was real._ He looked around the room. It didn't seem much like a hospital room, really. It was larger than most hospital rooms; more like a good-sized bedroom. The hospital bed and what medical equipment there was looked out of place, as though moved into a room not really designed for that purpose. The walls were varnished wood, and rust red curtains covered the single large window.

He stood up, being careful not to rest his weight on his injured arm, and walked somewhat unsteadily over to the IV. The bag was unlabeled; no clues there. Taking the IV stand with him, he instead went to the window. Once the curtains were thrown back, his suspicions were confirmed: He had no idea whatsoever about where he was.

Glumly, he sat back down on the bed. Being uncertain about his location was nothing new for him, but he'd never before been in such sorry condition while lost. He'd have a hard time defending himself with his arm broken, and the memory of exactly how much it had hurt made him question the wisdom of leaving this place without his own supply of painkillers. _Do broken bones hurt very much after they've been set? I've never broken one before..._

He'd been run over by vehicles of various sizes, hit by boulders weighing in excess of thirty tons, hit by people capable of splitting said boulders in half, whirled about by tornado force winds, and fallen off of more cliffs than he could remember. None of those experiences had ever ended up with him breaking anything. That the thing that looked like Ranma had been able to do this with a simple twist of his hand... Ryoga shuddered. He wasn't eager for a rematch with that thing, no matter how humiliating his defeat had been.

There was a knock on the door, and a muffled "Are you awake?" The voice was Tofu's. Inside Ryoga's head, questions began to laboriously form. Tofu was taking care of him, but this didn't seem like his clinic...

He shook his head. It'd be easier to just ask the man. "Yeah, I'm up. Sorta, anyway."

Tofu opened the door, and walked inside. He was carrying a large bowl, covered in an embroidered cloth. He set it on a bed tray with pair of chopsticks, and wheeled it over to Ryoga's bed, so that it could be comfortably eaten. Ryoga lifted off the cloth, and found that the bowl contained beef ramen.

Tofu pulled up a chair, reversed it, and sat down facing his patient. "So, how are you feeling? I think we did a fair job on your arm, especially considering that I wasn't allowed to bring you to a proper hospital." His smile tightened a bit at the mention of that, but his expression remained generally open and friendly.

"All right, I guess..." Ryoga began, than stopped. Something about what had just been said... "What do you mean by not being allowed to take me to a hospital?"

Tofu coughed. "Well, I'm not exactly an independent practitioner. I've got rules that I have to follow, and people I have to obey. My... well, my boss I suppose you'd call her. My boss informed me in no uncertain terms that there would be too many questions about how you got that..." he gestured at Ryoga's cast. "...if you went to a general hospital. So we had to treat you at the clinic."

Ryoga nodded, warily. This was starting to sound bad, as though he'd fallen in with organized crime or some such. The only incongruity was that it was _Tofu._ He tried imagining the man in a bad suit, wearing sunglasses and holding a pistol, and utterly failed. It was like trying to imagine Kasumi as an evil arch villain. Some things just didn't click.

Tofu smiled, and there was nothing false about it. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions. I'll try to answer them for you." He paused for a moment, thoughtful. "You're at the Nekohanten, by the way."

Ryoga almost spat out his mouthful of ramen. He looked at Tofu in horror, as though the man had mentioned that he'd been eating Arsenic Surprise. It was worse than organized crime. He'd been captured by the _Amazons._ "Holy hell...I'm laid up in bed in the same house as Cologne, Mousse and Shampoo," he murmured. "I'll be lucky to get out of here with all of my brain cells intact."

Tofu laughed, seeming genuinely delighted by Ryoga's commentary. "Yes... They do seem to have certain fondness for pharmaceuticals, don't they? You don't need to worry though. I know for a fact that Cologne's given strict orders to both of the other that they aren't to use any mind-altering substances on you."

Ryoga relaxed, somewhat. Cologne could usually be trusted, as long as you kept an eye on her. "Oh, thank god..." He'd seen what Shampoo had done to Ranma too often to be comfortable around her. And if ever confirmed the rumors he'd heard; that Mousse had once tied Akane up under a tank of Yahzunichuan water, this city would be minus one myopic weapon master. But if Cologne had given them orders, he could trust them to leave him alone. Mostly.

"Okay. So I'm at the Nekohanten, and I'm mostly safe. Good to start with. But..." he shook his head, trying to clear it. "My memory is a little fuzzy, I think. I remember fighting with Ranma, and then something happened. And Ranma became..." He grimaced. "Look, this is a little hard to explain. You know auras right?" He barely waited for Tofu's answering nod before continuing. "Well, Ranma's aura changed. A lot. It went all huge and black streaked and..." He gave up, acknowledging the futility of attempting to describe an aura in terms of visual effects. "Well, you know what I mean. Like he became someone else."

Tofu nodded. "Someone else in the same body, you mean?"

"Yeah..." Ryoga frowned. "But not exactly. I mean, it talked to me, and believe me it didn't sound a thing like Ranma. Too formal, too educated. No swearing. But the weird thing... The weird thing was that it also sounded like that thing believed that it _was_ Ranma." He shook his head. "Possession I could get. This was something else."

The doctor grinned sadly. "Yes, it was. More amalgamation than possession, I'm afraid. Ranma finally let loose what's been sleeping inside him for most of his life."

Ryoga stared at him, speechless for a time. "I get the feeling I'm not going to like this, but you'd better tell me what you know anyway."

So Tofu told him. Ryoga was right; he didn't like it at all.

* * *

In the halls of Furinkan High School, three students had been assigned bucket duty as punishment for being tardy. Akane couldn't quite get it into her head how they had managed to be late, even with the early start they had gotten that morning, but suspected that long periods of standing on the sidewalk shouting at each other might have had something to do with it.

Ukyo had listened quite attentively while Ranma had explained, at some length, exactly why he didn't want to submit himself to Cologne's plan. About how he was perfectly fine with hunting demons and saving the world, but not if it meant he had to become that _thing_ again.

"The worst part about it is that I'm still making the decisions," he had said. "It's just that they aren't the decisions I'd make, not if I wasn't messed up that way."

That had made some amount of sense, Akane had to admit. Ukyo hadn't seen it the same way, though.

"Look, Ranchan. I'm sorry about what you're going through, and I agree that it can't be easy for you to give in to her like that. But she's already said that you can't be 'cured.' And if you don't let her help you..." She'd sighed. "You broke Ryoga's arm, that time. What if next time it's me?"

That hadn't helped matters much. Ranma had vehemently denied that he'd ever do anything to hurt her, and Ukyo had instantly turned that back on him, pressing him about their engagement. And of course, Ranma had dithered, never quite denying her. Her hands had clenched so hard that her nails had dug into her palms, and her jaw ached from the effort of keeping silent. She'd wanted to _hurt_ him.

But she remembered what Cologne had said, last night, about how these demon-essences that were bound to their souls had affected their personalities. The only thing that stopped her from committing grievous bodily harm upon her fiancé was the notion that it might not really be her that wanted it done.

So she had kept silent, and allowed Ukyo to pester Ranma until all three of them had heard the school bell ring. After that, it had been a race to see who could get to the school first. Ranma had won, of course, but she'd been neck and neck with Ukyo the whole way. She smiled at the thought. It wasn't often that she got to compete with the superhuman group and not get thoroughly humiliated.

For now, the three of them stood silently in the hall, carefully not looking at each other. Akane was fairly certain that the others were likewise beginning to realize how stupid their fight had been. Neither of them showed any sign of discomfort from the weight of the buckets, but if she knew Ranma at least, the boredom would be killing him.

Even as she thought this, Ranma shifted, moving closer to the window. From the third floor window they had a generous view of the back schoolyard, and the fields, if one chose to look that way. For now, Ranma's eyes appeared to be fixed on a figure in blue kendo garb that was currently striding... the word 'walking' wasn't adequate to describe the level of haughty ceremony put into his steps... striding across the fields toward the forest.

"The hell is he doing out there?" asked Ranma, a puzzled expression on his face. "Don't he have class right now?"

Ukyo shrugged. "That idiot makes up his own rules. Always has, as far as I can tell. One more privilege of the asinine samurai class." She smirked.

Akane frowned in response. Her own family came from samurai stock, and while she'd be the first to agree that Kuno was a major piece of evidence for the theory that there was no intelligent life on Earth, she had a sneaking suspicion that Ukyo might be deliberately including her in that statement.

Ranma grunted. "Hmm. Maybe. I wonder what he's doing, though. Wandering around in the woods usually isn't Blue Moron's thing."

* * *

Tatewaki Kuno, Age 19, walked with stately grace through the wooded area behind Furinkan high, musing to himself as he did so. His ever-present bokken was held casually in his right hand, and occasionally flicked out with lightning speed to remove a stray branch or spider web from the Blue Thunder's path.

He'd ignored the order of his educator to stand in the hall, reasoning that his time might better be spent in contemplation unencumbered by the trivial distractions of the school. The teacher hadn't attempted to obstruct him. Obviously fearful of his might, the obsequious lecturer had merely mumbled something under his breath and turned back to address his class.

No respect for the requirements of a superior mind, the lot of them. He sighed, bemoaning the fate that had him attending this place of infantile learning with the rest of these churls. He learned far more in his solitary studies: of his country's great history, and of the part his own family had played in it. Of poetry, and art, and of warfare. He sighed again, this time more suitably dramatic. Of course, going to this common school did mean that he was able to observe his twin loves on a frequent basis...

As he walked, he began composing a poem in his head, directed toward one of those two spirited beauties.

_Pig Tailed Girl, as fair_

_As autumn leaves blown in the_

_Wind of my passing._

He frowned. As beautiful as the lines surely were, there was something amiss with them that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

So lost in thoughts of love and poetry was he, that he didn't notice the black, coiled form in front of him until he had already run into it. Puzzled, he prodded it sharply with his bokken, and was rewarded when the the great, snakelike being unwound itself from around the tree, and stared balefully into Kuno's face with scarlet, unblinking eyes.

The thing did indeed resemble a snake, but with several obvious differences. It possessed no mouth, but rather had a small round aperture near the front of its head, about the size of a woman's bracelet. Its black scales shone with a dull finish, and as it reared up to a height of about ten feet, Kuno could clearly see a series of segmented, rib like spines crossing over its chest, thin flesh stretched between them. Slowly, the ribs began to unfold until they formed a pair of sails running down its sides, and exposed a brilliant red underbelly. Its tail, ending in a kind of bony club, twitched as though restive, and the eyes continued to stare down at him.

Kuno gaped at the creature for a few moments, stunned, for once, into speechlessness. Then, a manic glint coming to his eye, he began to chuckle.

The Shadow Snake, already preparing to devour the intruder's life force, paused. It had never gotten a reaction quite like this before from its prey.

"Heh heh... Red and black, eh?" Kuno moved his bokken into a guard position. "So, the demon Saotome finally shows his true form. Has it truly taken you this long to work up the courage to face me directly? Truly, I had tired of defeating your churlish minions."

It stood there, stock-still and utterly nonplussed. It was dimly capably of understanding Kuno's language, but as far as it could tell, the strange man wasn't making any sense.

"So, you stand speechless, no doubt too afraid to even plead for mercy! But this display of cowardice will avail you not, for the Blue Thunder intends this to be our final confrontation!" Even as he spoke, Kuno rushed forward, bringing his bokken around in a dizzying arc to impact on the snout of the Shadow Snake.

It watched the weapon approach with a kind of lazy nonchalance, secure in its inability to be hurt by a bit of wooden stick. The line of pain that flashed through it when the bokken carved a bloody in its hide came as a devastating shock.

Whatever else could be said about Tatewaki Kuno, (and indeed, volumes could have been written on him, although they would be mostly psychological in nature) he was an excellent swordsman. Miyamoto Musashi was generally considered to be the finest in Japan's history, but even he couldn't cut rocks in half by air pressure alone.

For Kuno's part, the events were no less astounding. Accustomed to easily cleaving through stone with his wooden blade, the fact that only this minor cut had been opened was nearly unbelievable. Almost faster than the human eye could follow, he followed up with two more slashes, each opening an equally insignificant wound in the serpent's armored scales.

The Shadow Snake was incapable of hissing like a terrestrial serpent, but managed to convey its displeasure at the way events were turning out all the same. The idiot had actually managed to hurt it! Whatever that weapon was, it needed to be dealt with, and quickly. Managing to dodge a fourth strike, it brought its tail around in a lethal swing which impacted Kuno's torso and sent him flying through the woods, back toward the school.

Confident that its opponent would be dead from the blow, the serpent followed at its leisure.

* * *

Ryoga's ramen had long since gone cold as he sat in bed mulling over what Tofu had said to him. That Ranma carried a demon in him wasn't terribly surprising. Anyone who had seen him at Jusendo would have known that _something_ frightening lay within him. The news that the rest of them were similarly bound was only slightly more shocking. After all, there wasn't a normal personality in the bunch, even including, (and here he begged for forgiveness) Akane. But even if it wasn't an incredible shock, it was still a lot to take in.

"So," he began, slowly. "The rest of us are going to have to go through this transformation deal too?"

Tofu nodded. "I'm afraid so, Ryoga. According to what I know of the process, which admittedly isn't a whole lot, eventually you'll be placed in a position where you have to make a choice: Whether to allow yourself to lose something that you value dearly, or to give in to that... dark spot... inside of you." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, this is all pretty theoretical. I'm just relaying the lore that we have about this process. There's never been any test subject, so I can't tell you for certain. Ranma seems to bear it out, however. Apparently while he was at... Jusendo?"

Ryoga nodded.

"Right. Well, apparently, while he was at Jusendo he was faced with the prospect of loosing Akane, and he instead chose to allow the demon essence to awaken. Now, from what you've told me, he didn't exhibit the kind of intense power then that he did with you, so maybe the fact that he didn't consciously know what he was doing affected it." Tofu tapped his chin a few times, then got up and began walking about the room in a contemplative daze. "But conscious or not, he'd made the deal. So when Akane was again injured during your fight..."

Ryoga winced. Saying that he was embarrassed about that would have been like saying that he had a small dislike of cold water.

"...the demon essence immediately awakened again. I'd guess that since this time it already had a channel to come through, the power it endowed him with was far greater." Tofu shook his head. "If I didn't firsthand see the kind of trauma it caused that poor boy, I'd be tempted to call the process fascinating. As it is, I just hope he can survive it."

Ryoga frowned. "Poor boy? Ranma and me aren't that much younger than you."

The doctor grimaced. "Ah, well that's not entirely true... I'm a bit older than I look. I was apprenticed to Cologne some years ago..." he ignored Ryoga's incredulous look. "...and among the things I was taught were the anti-aging ki-excercises that she uses to maintain herself." He smiled. "I don't look to bad for someone who's pushing fifty three."

The lost boy stared at him. "And you're trying to have a relationship with Kasumi?"

Tofu's glasses began to fog up, and then quickly cleared again. "K..Kasumi is very mature for her age."

"Right...Um..." He floundered around a bit, attempting to form a coherent thought that didn't follow those suddenly disturbing lines. "So, you can't cure us?"

"No, I'm sorry. Even setting the whole issue of saving the world aside, it would be impossible without turning you into a vegetable." Tofu stopped short at Ryoga's sudden look of horror, and remembered that he wasn't dealing with most subtle person in Nerima. "I mean, without destroying your personality. I couldn't actually turn you into a... Well, the point is, you were bonded to the demon essence at the age of four months. If we were to remove it, and every trace of alteration it had made to your psyche, you'd be left with the approximate personality of a four-month-old infant."

The boy sighed heavily. Knowing how to perform the perfected Shi Shi Hokodan was beginning to become a serious risk to the structural integrity of this house. "Fine, I understand. But I don't think I'm going to be killing any demons for a while." He gestured at his right arm. "The one I fought yesterday did a number on me."

Tofu nodded, not mentioning that there was already another one running around the city. "I'll leave you alone. You really need to rest; it's the best way to speed your recovery." He paused. "That and drinking a lot of fluids. I'll have Shampoo bring you up something to drink." He turned to leave, picking up the cold ramen bowl as he went. Just as he was about to exit the room, Ryoga's voice stopped him.

"Dr Tofu? When the dem...when Ranma was about to kill me... Why didn't my own demon wake up?"

Tofu grimaced again before turning back to answer. "Well, I can't be completely sure, you understand. But my impression of you is that you've never particularly valued your own life." He paused, obviously torn between propriety and his desire to speak. Desire won out. "Maybe it's none of my business, but... try to find something to be happy about, Ryoga. Life's too hard to go through being miserable all the time." With that, he turned and left.

Ryoga stared at the door for some time after the doctor had gone, and then sank back down into the cushions of the bed. He couldn't help being a bit angry at Tofu for saying things like that to him; what did he know about Ryoga Hibiki's problems? But at the same time...

He reached up to scratch a sudden itch on the back of his head. He hoped he'd get a chance to call Akari soon.

* * *

"What the hell..." said Ranma, as Kuno flew out of the woods and plowed a long furrow in the baseball field. The speed at which the upperclassman had been traveling was obviously great, but Kuno's ability to recover from damage was almost legendary, so Ranma was more confused than concerned. It was only when the huge, snake-like form emerged into view that Ranma understood what was going on.

"Wow," said Ukyo. "Big sucker, ain't it? Must be twenty, twenty-five feet long..."

"Who cares how big it is?" said Akane. "We can't let it kill Kuno!"

The others went silent, and looked guiltily at one another. Eventually, Ranma scuffed his slipper against the ground and said, despondently. "Yeah, I guess so. Maybe we could let it rough him up a bit?"

That earned him a glare from Akane, and he retreated. "I guess not."

"Um... While we were talking about it, it looks like the snake made its own decision," said Ukyo, peering out the window. "It's just knocked Kuno...Holy Crap!"

Expletives were not nearly as rare from Ukyo as they were from Akane, but they still served as adequate warning. All three of them had time to duck as the window exploded from outside, and Kuno's battered form struck the ceiling and fell back to ground, limp as a wet rag.

Ranma whistled. "That thing's damn strong. Knocked him up three stories, and an' probably... what, two hundred feet?"

Akane, who was busy looking Kuno over, hissed at him. "Can you please save the commentary for later, Ranma? I'm trying to see if Kuno's all right."

Her fiancé looked at her, annoyed. "Hey, I'm just trying to get a handle on its abilities, okay? I'm gonna be the one who ends up fighting this thing, after all."

Ukyo and Akane shook their heads simultaneously. "Not alone, you're not," said Ukyo.

"Indeed," declared Kuno, in a weak voice from the floor. "The demon Saotome has not yet defeated me..."

Ranma stared at him, and then shook his head. "I don't wanna know where that came from. Akane, keep him from doing anything stupid, will you?" He turned back toward the window, attempting to ignore the clamoring of students and teachers as they began filtering into the hallway to catch the latest floorshow.

The serpent had somehow climbed the wall, and was already dragging itself through the broken window, its scales scraping noisily across shattered glass. Eyes like twin embers fixed Ranma in a predatory stare.

"...Shit," he said.

Authors Notes:

About Kuno and Nabiki's ages. They're both 19 and both still in high school. I rationalize this by claiming that both of them have birthdays very close to the cutoff point for new students, making them among the oldest students in their age group. Second, I have deliberately set this story in late spring, which is, I believe, the last part of the Japanese School year. If I'm wrong about this, please feel free to correct me, and I will make my own corrections.

The upshot of this is that both of them are almost out of their last year of high school. I've known people like this myself, who were 19 in their last year, through no fault of their own. So, before anyone asks, neither Nabiki nor Kuno were held back.

Kuno would certainly kill you if you implied it. Nabiki would probably just laugh.


	6. Chapter 5

Souls and Shadows

Part 1: A Door Once Opened

Chapter 5

Even as Ranma Saotome leapt to the attack, his mind, normally considered by those who knew him to be a feeble thing, was busy reviewing the battle conditions: calculating odds and tallying the positives and negatives. Ranma usually wasn't terribly bothered by his peers' implications that he had, in fact, slightly less intelligence than the stale rolls served in the cafeteria. He fervently believed that academics were on the very bottom of the scale of 'important stuff,' just below good grooming and polite manners.

In fact, had he ever decided to apply himself to schoolwork, his associates would have been forced to reassess their opinions of him, and quickly, lest they be caught on the trailing end of a rapidly moving grade curve. Ranma was, in fact, quite intelligent. And because he channeled all of his intelligence into the art of personal combat, he possessed a genius for it that bordered on the ridiculous.

For now, he was working overtime, trying to find some way to balance out the two columns in his mind; the one labeled "Good Stuff" and the one labeled "I'm Screwed." So far, it wasn't working. The first problem was the things' obvious strength advantage. He'd seen the blow delivered to Kuno only moments previously, and while he supposed he could do the same thing himself, he doubted that was the limit of the serpent's capabilities. From the easy, casual motion the thing had displayed as it knocked Kuno through the third story window from ground level, it was on a level with Ryoga, if not better. He was getting tired of fighting super-strong opponents.

The second problem was that, while still claiming to hold an undefeated record, he was quite aware that he was fairly often defeated in the initial encounter by his more unusual foes. This wasn't usually a problem; he could always learn their style and come back to make them eat copious amounts of pavement. But if he lost here, he didn't think that the demon was likely to give him the chance.

His foot lashed out in a forceful straight kick at the end of his leap, catching the Shadow Snake on the end of its nose, snapping its head to the side. Landing he immediately followed it up with a flurry of punches to its body, before it had time to react. Inwardly, he tallied up one point towards the "Good Stuff" column; his opponent wasn't nearly as fast as he was.

Glaring at him, the serpent twisted, aiming its bony, club-like tail at Ranma's torso. Ranma dodged, turning a back flip and landing amongst a throng of students that had gathered in the hall to watch their school's battle representative take on his latest opponent.

Ranma wanted to scream at them. In his mental "I'm Screwed" column, a note was typed in thirty-six point bold font: INNOCENT BYSTANDERS. They'd make it nearly impossible to use his full power against the thing, and from how easily it appeared to have already shrugged off his body punches, he might need to.

The demon surged forward, causing most of the crowd to scatter away from its direct path. Even as it moved, its tail whistled through the air, requiring Ranma to dodge once again. This time, it knocked a sizable hole in the wall of the classroom. There were still more students inside; those who'd either been uninterested in 'yet another fight,' or those who been unable to get through the door before chaos had broken loose. The thing paused, speculative, and turned toward one of the students that was even now attempting to back away from the monster. Ranma found himself swamped, caught up amidst an increasingly anarchic mob.

There were too many targets here. Ranma couldn't fight the thing with this many people in the way. He began waving at the thing frantically; trying to distract it, but the thing ignored him, instead picking up a hapless student by coiling its tail around the boy, and dragging him close to its head. The boy stared at it in frozen shock, unable to look away.

Ranma was nearly ready to launch himself at the thing again, when a barrage of razor sharp spatulas struck the back of the serpent's head. Most of them ricocheted off its tough hide, but two of them managed to catch under its scales, drawing blood and causing the demon to rear back in a silent roar of pain. Dropping the boy, it turned towards Ukyo, and lashed out again with it's tail. Ukyo was less agile than Ranma, and took a glancing blow that numbed her arm. Another wall fell to the Shadow Snake's tail.

"Ukyo! You alright?" Ranma had to shout over the increasing din of shattering construction and screaming students. "I'll be right there!" Not waiting for an answer, he hurled himself toward the snake once again, landing on its back. Immediately, he unleashed a ridiculous barrage of punches at the back of the thing's skull, similar to what he had once done to Ryoga. The demon crashed to the ground, taking Ranma with it.

"Heh… That got him," Ranma smirked. Then, realizing that one should never, ever say those words in the midst of life or death combat, he turned around just in time to see its tail hurtling toward him once again. Just before it struck, scorpion-like, the bony club at the end split down the middle, forming a kind of thick pincer. It plowed into Ranma neck, causing him to lose his breath, and pinned him against the floor.

The demon was expressionless, but nevertheless seemed to radiate a kind of amused satisfaction. Moving forward, it brought the small aperture at the bottom of its head close to its victim, and began to draw on it.

Ranma felt the familiar sensation of being ki-drained, and began struggling with renewed effort, but lesser effect. The thing was taking his strength rapidly, reducing him to little more than an unruly infant. He didn't know what to do; he couldn't try breaking the floor, in case there were people underneath it, the serpent certainly wasn't allowing him to get free in the other direction, and it was damned risky trying for a Mouko Takabisha while being drained. Still, he was just getting ready to try it when the Shadow Snake suddenly backed off.

Looking around itself, the Shadow Snake suddenly found itself, faced with several opponents. Its original foe, the one with the damned wooden sword, was up again. His eyes looked bleary as he advanced, saying "I'll…I'll not be beaten by you, wretched hellspawn! You will fall before me, Saotome!" He would have been dismissed, except that the sword he carried was held steady and unwavering in his hands.

At his side was a female, dressed in the same fashion as the majority of the females in this place. Her face was contorted into a kind of savage snarl as she stepped forward. "Get off him now!" she hissed, managing to put universes of threat into the statement. The serpent almost let its prey go then and there, nervous about facing the promise of deadly harm in that voice.

Looking to the other side, it saw that the other female, the one with the sharp metal things was cautiously advancing as well. The huge axe that it had previously carried on its back was out, and was being held expertly despite the blow it had dealt her. She was silent and grim featured as she approached. And below it, it could feel the other one, the quick bastard, getting ready for some kind of strike.

One other, a small child was pushing her way forward to the front of the mob. She was inconsequential, but the Shadow Snake had decided that it had had enough of this fight. Releasing the boy, it quickly closed its pincer and used it to bash a hole in the floor. With a speed the left its observers astonished, it flipped itself down through the hole and began speeding away through the lower halls.

* * *

At the Nekohanten, Ryoga Hibiki had discovered that badly broken bones did not, in fact, hurt terribly much as long as one had an ample supply of painkillers and the self-control purchased by years of martial training.

"Lost Boy NOT end up in Shampoo room again! Shampoo cook special pork ramen, if he do!"

As he backed hurriedly out of the bedroom, faced with a furious and half-dressed Amazon, he reflected on the fact that his martial training had never involved a great deal self-control. Half a dozen small curios were flung at him with lethal precision, and though they did little damage, they did serve to aggravate both the aches in his arm and his head.

Turning around, he came very close to running over his second-least-favorite person in the world. He had been standing right behind him, glasses on for once, and mouth hanging opened at the sight of Shampoo wearing very small amounts of clothing.

There was a long pause before she gave an angry, feline hiss, and slammed the door, nearly splintering it against the back of Ryoga's head.

Mousse shook aside the bliss of the previous sight, and replaced it with his more usual obtuse aggressiveness. "Hibiki! I might have expected this from Saotome, but…" He shook his head, and produced a brace of throwing knives from the inside of his robe. "We might be expected to be allies now, but if you persist in harassing Shampoo, I'll have to take steps." He waved one of the knives threateningly, as though their mere presence required help.

Ryoga eyed Mousse's cutlery warily. He was more than confident in his ability to humiliate the near-blind warrior under normal circumstances. But considering the arm… and the fact that the day had already started off not particularly well… He put up both hands in a commiserating gesture, ignoring the twinge of pain from his right. "Hey, it was an accident. Didn't mean to see nothing I shouldn't have." He glanced from side to side. "Do you know where I can find a phone?"

Mousse lowered his weapons, marginally. "Well, if anyone could make that mistake, it would be you…" He tapped the knife against his chin, ignoring the throbbing vein that appeared on Ryoga's forehead. "You can find a phone downstairs. It's in the television room." The knife returned to the inside of his voluminous robe. "Just don't walk in on Shampoo anymore, or I'll know you've been lying to me."

The painkiller coursing through Ryoga's veins might have been an explanation for what he said next. Either that or it was simply standard Ryoga stupidity. As he turned toward where he though he remembered the stairs being, he muttered under his breath, "Like I'd want to walk in on THAT."

Out came the knives. And part of the Nekohanten received a round of unscheduled demolition.

* * *

Ranma rubbed his throat as Akane rushed over to him. "Ranma! Are you okay?" she asked, almost frantic.

"Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, voice hoarse from the blow. "Damn thing was pulling a Hinako trick. Drained me. I'll be fine in a second." He looked toward the hole, down which the serpent had vanished. "Not that we have a second." Glancing toward Ukyo, he added, "Are you alright? The thing tagged your arm…"

Ukyo nodded. "I'm fine. Getting some feeling back right now." She paused. "We have to go after it, before it kills anyone."

Striking a pose, Kuno said, "Truly, Ukyo Kounji is correct. We cannot allow a creature as vile as Saotome to remain at large within these premises. We must apprehend and destroy the creature at once!"

There was a pause, as the rest of the group looked at each other in confusion. Finally, Akane spoke. "Um, Kuno? Who do you think this is?" She pointed at Ranma, somewhat afraid to receive the answer.

Kuno gestured grandly toward Ranma. "I cannot blame you for being taken in, fair maidens. What you see before you is but an unfortunate student, twisted into the guise of the foul demon, so that he might ravage this place of learning without consequence!" He nodded sagely. "It is lucky indeed that I am here, that you might know the truth of the matter."

Again, there was silence. Ranma got to his feet, a dangerous gleam in his eye, and hands balled into fists. "Right, Kuno. Now just hold still while I do some creative skull redecoration…" He moved forward, fully ready to beat the upperclassman into unconsciousness, only to be stopped by Akane's hand on his chest.

She glared at him. "Not now, Ranma. As stupid as he is, we can use as many allies as we can get right now." She looked back at Kuno, and her voice faltered. "…Even him."

Ukyo jerked her thumb over at Miss Hinako, who was busy trying to reorganize the rest of the students. "What about her? She might be some kind of help, especially if that thing can do something similar."

"Not similar…" muttered Ranma. "It's exactly the same. Trust me on that." He shook his head. "If she wants to go, I can't stop her, but I don't think much of her chances in a real fight."

Hinako leveled a glare at him, and by way of answer drained half a dozen students, instantly transforming from a tiny child into her rather more impressive adult form. "I think you underestimate me, Saotome." She smiled. "Let's teach this delinquent a lesson, shall we?"

Ranma shrugged. "Fine. Follow me." He grabbed Akane, ignored her protests that she could get down fine by herself, and jumped with her down through the hole that the serpent had created. The classroom below had been thoroughly destroyed, partly by falling debris and partly by the passage of a twenty-five foot long demonic snake. From the sounds of the screams, it was obvious which way the creature had gone. Allowing Akane to drop from his grasp, he began running after the thing, then abruptly slowed down again. With ill-concealed impatience, he waited as Ukyo, carrying both Kuno and Hinako, also dropped down the hole.

The Okonomiyaki chef shot him an irritated glance. "Thanks for helping, Ranchan."

Confused, Ranma looked back at Akane, who was attempting to suppress a grin. "Um... Oh. Sorry 'bout that." He shook his head. "Look, let's try to get a plan together… If this was out in the open I could take this thing, but in here…" His monologue was cut off as Hinako buzzed by him, moving with surprising speed despite her lack of training. Within moments, she had disappeared down the hallway.

"…Well, shit," finished Ranma. He threw his hands up in exasperation as both Ukyo and Akane grinned. "Fine, don't wait for the plan. Let's follow her." He took off, the rest of the group following close behind.

It didn't take long for them to catch up to Hinako, but the creature was still nowhere in sight. It had left an obvious trail of destruction and debris as it moved through the school; broken walls and shattered classrooms littered the area. More than a few students were milling about, attempting to fill their resident defenders in on the situation, and were quickly told to get out of the way. Most of them complied, and the few that didn't fell victim to Hinako's energy drain, over Akane's increasing protests.

Rounding a corner, they caught the creature in the process of bashing its way through the floor once more. It gave them a silent glare, and prepared to slither its way down to the first floor. Ranma grinned, and leapt at the creature.

_Okay, learned my lesson this time. No more body punches; it's too flexible. Go for the head. Watch the tail, and make sure the thing can't…_Ranma's thoughts were interrupted by a shout of "Happo No-Yen Coin Return!" from behind him, and he just barely managed to twist aside in midair to avoid the sizzling bolt of energy that Hinako had flung towards the serpent. "Hey!" he shouted, skidding as he landed off balance on the floor. "Wait till I'm out of the way, dammit!"

The bolt struck the Shadow Snake in the belly, flipping it over and propelling the creature away from the hole it had just made. There was a smell like roasting pork as some of the creature scales dropped away from ruined flesh. It quivered in silent pain for a moment before rearing up once again, and aiming its 'mouth' aperture towards the group.

Aside from Kuno, they were able to guess what was coming in plenty of time to dodge. The inestimable blue thunder, however, simply charged the creature, and was struck dead on by a bolt of power identical to the one the Hinako had thrown moments earlier. He was thrown back about thirty feet, crashing into a wall, and dropping into unconsciousness. The snake surged forward, and dropped itself down the hole it had created.

"Aw, hell…" muttered Ukyo, getting up from where she had fallen. Moving over towards, she began checking him for vital signs. A few moments later, she nodded. "He'll be fine. Probably give him a hell of a headache, though." She shook her head. "Too bad, huh?"

Akane nodded, and ran over to help up Miss Hinako from where she lay, in her childlike form once again. "Right. We're getting nowhere fast though. Every time we try to catch it, it throws something at us and vanishes." Hinako nodded in woozy agreement.

Ranma smirked. "Nope. Look, if that thing's energy trick really is like Hinako's, he can only get off one shot before needing to recharge. Could you drain people on the run?" This last was addressed to the diminutive teacher.

"N..No. Not unless someone was carrying me. Piggyback ride?" she asked, hopefully.

Ranma paused. "Yeah, not a bad idea." He reached down and scooped her up, carrying her easily on his back. "Okay, I'm going to try to get Hinako close enough to drain the snake, okay? Ukyo, give me some cover, will you?"

She nodded, producing another fistful of throwing spats. "Right. Not a problem."

"Great. Akane?"

"Yes?" she said, pleased at being asked to contribute.

"Be careful, and try not to get hurt." With that, Ranma bounded down the hole, followed by Ukyo. Akane stood there for a moment, fuming, and then, growling under her breath, went after them.

* * *

The Shadow Snake was not having a good day. Its feedings the previous day had done nothing to prepare it for the kind of beating that it was taking now. Its belly ached as it scraped across the floor; that woman's energy blast had been excruciatingly painful.

It knew, in a sort of vague, dim sense, that the people here weren't supposed to be this kind of trouble. All it had wanted was a nice, quiet slaughter, and now this handful of natives was forcing it to run for its life. When it came time for an accounting, this episode was not going to earn it favors from its masters.

Pushing aside the unwelcome thought that it wasn't supposed to be here anyway, and that likely the only favor it could count on was a slow, painful death, it continued down the hall, grabbing a fleeing student as it went. It had expended more energy than it wanted to on that blast, and needed to recharge. Ignoring the screams of its prey, it pushed on, hoping to find someplace safe to eat.

* * *

It took them very little time to catch up to their opponent again, now that the slower members of their group were either incapacitated or being carried. This time, there was little introduction. Ranma darted forward, Hinako whooping in delight, and began running around the serpent, dodging tail swipes as he went. He could hear Hinako beginning her chant, and hoped that she'd get done with it soon.

A series of expert spatula throws caught the snake's tail, causing it to drop the student, who immediately scurried away. Distracted, the creature barely had time to react as Hinako finished her setup. With a final cry of "Happo Five-Yen Satsu!" she was deposited on the ground in front of the creature. Ranma darted away, not eager to be caught in the energy vortex.

The creature countered, forming its own twisting cyclone of negative energy, draining the small girl even as she drained it. Arcs of purple lightning flashed between them as the two conflicting fields collided. Both of them stood stock still, stalemated by each other's powers. Then, laboriously, the Shadow Snake lifted its tail, preparing to deliver a physical strike to the girl.

Akane intercepted it even as it lashed out, catching it in a two-handed grip. For a moment, she stood against it, matching her strength against the demon's. Then it pushed, and she lost her balance, allowing the creature to slam her into the wall. She fell amidst a shower of debris. _Still better than doing nothing,_ she thought, as pain flashed up her side. _At least I knocked it off course._ She was bleeding, she knew that, but it didn't seem serious. The adrenaline rush of combat suffused her as she got to her feet once again.

The Shadow Snake took a punishing series of blows to the head from quick bastard, causing its concentration to slip slightly. It managed to clamp down before the little girl drained too much power away, but its wounds were beginning to tell. Frightened and desperate, it looked about itself, trying to find some way out of this deadly situation. One of the damnable metal blades struck it in the eye, causing a streak of white pain to cascade down its entire body. It could heal itself, if it managed to get away from these bouncing pests, but it couldn't think of how to do so. It needed time…

A thought came to it, dredged with great difficulty out of the reaches of what passed for its memory. Something that one of its masters had once said, about using one the opponent's friends as a weapon… Ah yes. Hostages. Before any of its enemies had time to react, it launched its pincer toward the weakest of its enemies, grasped her tightly by the front of her garment, and pulled her close.

Ranma skidded to a halt in the middle of his latest charge as the thing pulled Akane to itself, coiling its tail tightly about her. It backed away from the others, holding its hostage in front of itself. His hands clenched tightly, and he felt his vision blurring, as though the darkness at the very edge of his vision was beginning to encroach upon more normal areas of sight. His eyes were fixed on Akane as she struggled for breath.

Hinako had stopped her drain as soon as Akane had gotten in the way, and now looked nervously at Ranma and Ukyo, as though wondering what she should do. Ukyo, now out of ammunition, had drawn her large spatula again, but was unwilling to come much closer. She sidled over towards Ranma, keeping her eyes on the monster. "What do we do now? I don't think that…" Her voice cut off abruptly as Ranma turned toward her, his eyes full of madness and pain.

"Get out of the way, Ucchan…" he growled, his voice barely recognizable.

She hesitated, reaching out to him. "Ranchan, are you okay? What's…"

"I said get out of the way!" The words burst forth in a pained roar, and he shoved Ukyo hard. She flew backward twenty feet, and barely managed to keep her balance. She looked back toward Ranma, angry words coming to her lips, all of which died as she saw the shadows engulf him.

The world blinked.

And Ranma straightened up from his previous tortured half-crouch, no longer fighting himself. Every movement spoke of deadly control as he turned toward the serpent, which still held Akane in its grasp. When he spoke, Ukyo imagined that she could hear the tinkle of ice forming on the surface of his words.

"Let her go. Now." His face was calm, and his stance casual. If not for his eyes; blank and blazing with cold fire, and the sense of unavoidable menace that surrounded him, he could have been asking the time of some passerby.

The serpent backed up, its spine touching the wall. All of its instincts screamed at it to simply drop the girl and abase itself before this new opponent, but at the same time fear had frozen it in place. Even the girl appeared too shocked to move, and had ceased her struggling in its coils.

"I told you to let her go." There was a blur of motion, and suddenly the Snake felt the newcomer's foot impact it in the side of the head. The sheer force of the blow almost caused the creature to black out, and propelled it through the wall and out into a courtyard of screaming students. They scattered as it landed, stunned. For a few moments it lay there, wondering what had happened, before realizing that the girl was gone, plucked from its grasp as it flew.

For Akane's part, the experience was little less surprising. One moment she had been fighting to get free of the thing, and the next Ranma had been saying… something. And then she had been flying through the air, wondering how she was going to land. And finally, she had been grabbed in mid flight, and had come to rest…

…In Ranma's arms. Her mind almost shut down from embarrassment. Here she was, in front of practically the entire school, being carried in Ranma's arms in the classic 'damsel in distress' pose. While she wasn't sure that being left with the snake would have been preferable, she was at least going to have a few choice words to say to Ranma about this when it was all done.

He deposited her quite gently on the ground, and looked her up and down critically. Biting back a flush of embarrassment, Akane noticed for the first time the insubstantial black armor that covered him, and the blue-white fire in his eyes. "Oh," she said.

"Are you well? The creature did not hurt you, I hope?" The words were cold, passionless. Ranma could have been asking her about tonight's homework assignment.

"Yes…" she began, still looking at him in a kind of daze. "It was just a little hard to breath. Nothing to worry about…" Her voice cut off abruptly as he took her hand in his. Now he was smiling, although it was a small wintry thing.

"Good. I am pleased that you have come to no harm. Now wait here. This will not take long." His hand traced the line of her jaw, and before she could react, pulled her into an intense kiss.

Akanes mind shut down almost completely at this point. Long moments passed as she stood there, unresisting, as Ranma kissed her in full view of the schoolranmaogodogodwhatamIdoingwhycan'tIbreakawayeveryoneswatchingogod… And then it was over, and Ranma turned back toward the snake, which was attempting, with some success, to extract itself from the furrow it had plowed upon landing in the courtyard.

She touched two fingers to her lips, still numb about what happened to her. Even Ranma's body temperature seemed below normal in this state.

"You have harmed my beloved, and threatened greater harm to her…" noted Ranma as he walked up to the beast, apparently taking no thought whatsoever to defense. "It is time you learned the consequences of you actions."

The snake's tail shot forward once again, but this time Ranma made no move to jump away. Instead, he merely stepped to one side, and caught it in one hand as it cascaded past his shoulder. Without a second glance, he snapped off the killing club and tossed it to the side, where it twitched on the pavement for a few seconds before lying still.

Wiping ichor from his hands, he advanced. Attempting to ignore the pain of its severed tail, the serpent shot away from this lethal new opponent, only to find that, somehow, he was in front of it again. He smirked at the monster. "You aren't fast enough to get away from me. You aren't fast enough to stop me."

It couldn't even see the movements as its foe's fists crashed into it, breaking ribs and vertebrae all up and down its body. Even with its bred-in resistance to pain, the sensation was indescribable. Feeling all hope of escape drop away from it, it collapsed to the ground, waiting for the killing blow.

And then the blows ended. The black-armored figure was in front of it again, regarding it solemnly. It could just see the man's expression through the haze of pain. He appeared speculative.

"You're really little more than a dumb beast, aren't you? Just following instinct and programming. I suppose I should let you go. You're crime was fairly small, after all. I think you've learned your lesson." His head tilted to one side, as he seemed to think about this.

Dumb as it was, the Shadow Snake knew that he wasn't about to be let free. When the man's palm came up, pointing directly at its face, it wasn't the least bit surprised.

"And yet, you harmed my beloved. I think an example must be made." His voice remained passionless even as he pronounced death for the creature. "Mouko Takabisha."

Whatever thoughts the Shadow Snake had going through its dim mind were cut off as the blazing rush of energy struck it. It lasted only a moment, and when it was done only a patch of greasy char remained on the pavement to mark its passing. Ranma wiped his hands, smirked again, and turned back toward his companions, only to be met by a rush of enthusiastically grateful students.

"Wow! That was great! Didja learn some technique?"

"You really wasted that thing didn't you…"

"…Teach it to mess with Furinkan…"

"…Wasn't scared for a second. Ranma always comes through…"

Their praise and commentary on his fighting technique were quickly boring Ranma, and he was about to begin shoving his way through the crowd to get back to his beloved when a familiar face confronted him. _Daisuke. _The slightly smaller boy clapped a companionable hand to his shoulder, smiling broadly.

"Damn, Ranma. Nice work on that thing. I couldn't even see you move." He shook his head in wonderment. "Been training with Cologne again?" He looked down at the ashes that had only seconds before been a deadly serpentine demon, and whistled. "Pretty impressive."

Coming up behind him was Hiroshi, second half of their ever-present duo. Currently he was munching on a small bag of chips as he surveyed the scene. "I'll say. Forget killin' giant snakes, I wanna know how you managed to kiss Akane like that!"

Daisuke sniggered. "Yeah, no kidding. I mean, that was kinda out of the blue wasn't it? And in front of all these people too. She's gonna kill you when you get alone."

Hiroshi grinned. "Well, maybe not kill, exactly." He clasped his hands in front of him, and began making a series of rather embarrassing noises. "Oh, Ranma, you're so brave and strong! Let me show you my appreciation for saving me…" He pursed his lips in series of mock kisses, and then collapsed in laughter.

Ranma's eyes narrowed, and quicker than the eye could follow he grasped the front of Hiroshi's shirt and dragged the boy towards him until they were eye to eye. "Are you mocking my beloved?" he asked, voice dangerously quiet. The laughter and jostling of the crowd died away almost instantly, replaced by worried murmurs.

"Hey, come on, Ranma. Leggo. You know I didn't mean anything…" Hiroshi's protests died as he looked into Ranma's eyes. If he still had pupils they couldn't be seen. There was only endless blue white flame.

"Do I? I seem to remember you professing interest in her more than a few times." Ranma grinned mirthlessly. "And you certainly sounded as though you were insulting her." With a single easy motion he tossed Hiroshi away from him. The boy came down hard on the pavement.

The rest of the crowd began to back off, nervously. They had no idea what was going on, but weren't about to get in between Ranma and Hiroshi now. Ranma walked over toward his fallen friend, who was groaning as he tried to get up, and casually stepped on his chest.

"I could just crush your ribcage now, you know. That would stop you from making jokes like that in the future." He smiled. "Or I could remove your hands. You'd find it harder to touch her then. Or…"

"Ranma! What do you think you're doing?" Akane's voice rang out over the mutterings and groans of pain, causing Ranma to look in her direction. Akane had finally managed to recover from the shock Ranma's actions, and was looking at him with an expression of horror on her face. "Get away from him right now, or…"

Ranma shrugged, and released Hiroshi. The other boy scrambled out of the way, thankful for his reprieve. The martial artist didn't bother watching him go. Instead, he walked toward Akane, a slight smile crossing his face. Less than five paces away, Ukyo interposed herself between the two, her face full of fear and her large Spatula held in a combat position.

"Akane," she said, speaking in a quiet voice that nonetheless carried across the yard. "I want you to get away, as quick as you can. This isn't Ranma now, and I don't know what he'll do to us. I'll try to hold him off…"

"Not Ranma?" he said, puzzlement crossing his face for the first time. "Who else would I be, friend Ukyo?" He shook his head. "Ah, of course. The Demon. No, I don't think so. I am Ranma, but clearer. More focused. Why would I want to harm my best friend?" He stepped forward, ignoring her stricken expression at the words 'best friend.' "Now get out of the way, Ukyo. As welcome as your company is, I intend to speak to my beloved again first."

Her face hardened, and she gripped her spatula with renewed energy. "Oh no you don't. I'm not letting you get near her, not while you're like this." She risked a glance over her shoulder. Akane hadn't moved. "Dammit Akane, get out of here! He's dangerous right now!" She turned back, only to find that Ranma was right next to her, practically breathing the same air. She gulped.

"Dangerous? Perhaps. Why haven't you moved aside? I really don't want to hurt you, Ukyo." His voice was lower now. Threatening.

She looked up at him defiantly. "Then don't. If you don't want to hurt me, then don't do it."

He glanced at her spatula. "Put away your weapon, Ukyo."

"No. Not until you're normal again."

There was a blur, and Ukyo suddenly felt the spatula wrenched from her hands. She had as much chance of keeping a grip on it as she had of spontaneously speaking Russian. With no warning at all, the weapon was simply in Ranma's hands. He threw it over his shoulder. There were indents in the metal from where his hands had gripped it.

"Now get out of the way before I have to hurt you, Ukyo." He raised one hand, ready to cut her down.

She knew that she couldn't stop him, knew that she couldn't even slow him down. Screwing up every ounce of her courage, once again she said, "No."

A look of pain crossed Ranma's face, and then anger. They were the first genuine emotions that he'd displayed since Changing. "Dammit, Ucchan. Why can't ya just listen to me?" For a moment, his speech lapsed back into the casual patterns that Ranma usually displayed.

She breathed a sigh of relief. There was something left in there, after all. "Ranchan, please, you need to… change back, do whatever it is you do to stop this." She realized belatedly that she had no idea whatsoever about how to go about doing that. She reached out and hesitantly touched his shoulder. "C'mon. Quit this."

Ranma stared at her, and with a sudden strangled cry of rage and fear and pain knelt and slammed his fist into the ground. The pavement lurched from the impact, knocking Ukyo and half the student body off their feet. "No! Get away! You… You too wish me to betray my beloved… No! You're my friend…I'm not going to hurt you… Don't make me hurt you!"

Akane's hand touched him, hesitantly. He stared up at her, eyes for a moment unseeing. He hadn't seen her approach. Then the world blinked once more, and Ranma was kneeling in the crater created by the blow of his fist, tears coming to his eyes. He looked around wildly for a few moments, as if not understanding what had happened.

Everything had been so clear when he had allowed the Demon to take him. All of his doubts about himself, about his feelings, about the world… All of it had fallen away, leaving sharp clear focus and mathematical certainty. It was as though everything in his life was easily categorized by numbers, A being more valuable than B but not so much as C… Up until Ukyo had nearly gotten him to kill her. He suppressed the sudden wash of bile in his throat at the thought. _If I hadn't remembered at the last minute that I _don't _act that way_… He looked back up at his fiancée.

"Ranma, are you alright?" Akane's voice was worried, and for the first time he realized that she too had been on the verge of crying. "You almost…"

He nodded. "I'm…okay now, I think." He got up, pointedly ignoring the crater and the charred remains of his opponent. _Dammit, I did it again, didn't I? I killed the damn thing. I mean, sure it was a demon, but…_ He shook his head, and than looked toward where Daisuke was helping Hiroshi to his feet. He took a few steps toward them, and was rewarded with the sight of the rest of the student body backing nervously away. "I'm sorry, guys… I didn't mean any of that, I promise!"

_You did then, _said a little voice inside him.

He raised one hand, beseeching, and then dropped it to his side. "Ukyo," he said, not looking at her. "I'm sorry. I want you to know that I'd never try to hurt you. This was…" he looked around himself. "This was a mistake. A bad one. Sorry."

Ukyo managed a weak smile. "S'okay, Ranchan. I know you wouldn't try to hurt me. This was proof enough of that, right?" Her voice dropped off when she realized that he wasn't listening to her.

"Akane," he continued. "You should probably do what Cologne said. Get packed up, and head over to the Nekohanten. I've… I've got to do some thinking, okay?"

She barely had time to nod in response before he ran, clearing the wall in a single leap, and headed off into the city. Pursing her lips in worry, she turned back toward the scene of destruction that was the high school. "Should we try to follow him?"

Ukyo shook her head. "Hell no. We couldn't anyway; you saw the way he was moving." She walked over to where the remains of the creature lay, and began prodding it with her foot. There was a clinking sound. Reaching down, she discovered one of her own throwing spats, half melted from the blast but still intact. The side that had faced Ranma's Mouko Takabisha was blackened from heat and ash, but the side that had been away from it still retained it's finished gleam. "I think it might be best to leave him alone for a while."

Akane nodded reluctantly. Already the students were beginning to drift off, eager to tell their families about what had happened at school that day. Miss Hinako was attempting to keep them in line with stern words and judicious energy drain, but was having little success. It appeared as though school was out for the foreseeable future.

* * *

Later that night there was a rainstorm. It quite fit the mood, Cologne thought as she sat by the fire and sipped her tea. The day had been somewhat trying; first the somewhat difficult attempts at suppressing news coverage of the 'event' at Furinkan High, combined with the usual bribes to witnesses and family members and taken up most of her day. Normally she could just put some of her underlings on the case, but the situation now involved the mission directly, and that made it all the more crucial. She could no longer foist these things off on her unlucky henchmen, and she was just beginning to realize exactly how much work would be required.

When she had finally arrived home, she had been greeted to the sight of Tofu helping Akane and Ukyo into their new accommodation. While not unwelcome, this had added a layer of complexity to her day that she didn't need at the time. Just keeping Mousse from killing the Hibiki boy was work enough. Now she had to be vigilant against Shampoo's possible attempts at assassinating her romantic rivals on top of it.

Sometimes she worried about her granddaughter.

She sighed as she took another sip of the excellent imported tea. The biggest problem, of course, was Ranma. The fool boy still hadn't returned from wherever he had gone after he'd destroyed the demon. And according to her sources, 'destroyed' was a good word for what he'd done. She shuddered. Keeping the boy in line physically was not going to be an option any longer. Oh well.

There was a flash of lightning, and the accompanying roll of thunder occurred at nearly the same time as the knock on her window. She looked over quite calmly to see Ranma's red-haired female form outside, soaked, and gazing in with despondent eyes.

Supressing a yell of triumph, she opened the window for her. "Well, come in, boy. I don't want to get more water inside than I have to."

Ranma nodded and climbed inside. She quickly took the chair that was offered to her, and sat staring at the fire. After a while, she spoke. "You were right, you know."

Cologne feigned ignorance. "Eh? What do you mean by that?"

The girl sighed. "You were right, when you said that you needed to teach me control. I…" She leaned over and rested her chin in her hands, still gazing at the flame. "The first time this happened to me, it was because Akane nearly died, and it affected me just enough to let me win. The next time, it happened just 'cause she got a bit hurt, an' I broke Ryoga's arm. This time, I went over when she got threatened, and I came damn close to killing Ukyo and Hiroshi." She sighed again, and buried her face in her hands. "What if next time, Akane just gets insulted or somethin', and I decide to friggin' blow up the school? I can't control this."  
  
She turned toward Cologne, and for the first time the old woman could see that she was genuinely weeping. "I know you can't cure me, or any of us… But you might be the only person who can help us. I thought that I could ignore it, make it so it never happened, but…"

Cologne suddenly felt all ill will towards Ranma vanish in a wave of genuine sympathy. She moved forward, and placed a hand on the girls shoulder, attempting to comfort her. "Oh, dear child…" She shook her head. "A door, once opened, can never truly be closed again. But I shall do my best to give you a lock and key."

Ranma nodded, and wiped away her tears. And Cologne held the girl silently, already thinking of what the next day would bring.

* * *

And just outside the northern limits of Nerima, another hole opened in the air. This had none of the violence or raw spectacle of the last; it was a clean violet disk, and barely stirred the air around it. From inside it stepped two figures. Both were the size and shape of tall men, and wore loose robes with cowls covering their faces. They were nearly identical, save for the fact that one of the robes was pure white, while the other was a neutral gray.

As the hole closed silently behind them, they stood, gazing out over the sights of Tokyo that their vantage point atop the hill afforded them. Finally, the white robed one spoke. His voice was pleasant and well cultured, if perhaps a bit flat. "Quite amazing. And according to the reports, the natives were using copper tools the last time? They seem to have advanced somewhat."

His counterpart in the gray robe responded. His voice was much the same, but instead of the flatness possessed a slight musical lilt, as though he were perpetually amused by whatever he saw in front of him "Yes, that's certainly true. But these places are all the same. Read your histories. No matter how powerful their weapons, they will have been constructed to kill each other. Not us." He paused, looking to the northeast. "Do you have a reading on the Shandago that managed to escape through the portal?"

White shook his head. "I'm afraid not. It must already have been dispatched." There was a hint of a smile behind his cowl. "So much for your theories about their weapons, perhaps?"

Gray shook his head. "Shandagos are tough enough, but they're stupid war beasts. Not what I meant when I said 'us.'" He too smiled. "Be at ease, my junior partner. Tonight we'll search for a suitable staging ground, and then we'll start taking readings on the surrounding area. You shouldn't worry so much. There will be little in this world capable of hurting the two of us."

White nodded, then, after a few moments, ventured "And if we do run into trouble, there is always Triel, is there not?"

Gray scowled, his displeasure evident even behind his robe. "Not unless we have to. Not unless all else fails."

* * *

Author's Notes:

This chapter gave me a million headaches, and it still came out horrible. This one is definitely going to be rewritten before the end, but I figured I'd better post it anyhow.

E-Mail me with questions and comments at 


	7. Chapter 6

Souls and Shadows

Part 1: A Door Once Opened

Chapter 6

It was early morning, and united by a new common purpose, the collection of young martial artists collectively and colloquially known as the Nerima Wrecking Crew were already training hard in preparation for their great mission.

'United' might have been overstating the situation a bit.

Currently Shampoo, Ryoga, and Akane were watching as Ranma and Mousse sparred, tearing up the hard-packed ground of the Nekohanten's yard in their exertions. It was obvious that Mousse was not holding back; his continual deployment of chains, blades and throwing implements was being utilized to its fullest. Ranma was many things, but not invulnerable, and the prospect of six inches of steel in his gut kept him at his distance.

It was equally obvious that the Master of Hidden Weapons had no chance of winning the match. Despite the almost impossible skill of their wielder, not a single blade came close to hitting its mark. Each chain was dodged with a kind of casual precision that made Mousse snarl in aggravation. And Mousse was beginning to tire.

Finally, Ranma seized hold of a chain that had flown by about six inches to the left of his ear; one that his observations had told him was neither bladed nor spiked along its length. Pulling sharply, he managed to unbalance the other boy, hurling him to the ground. Before Mousse could react, Ranma had his fist at Mousse's throat in a classic finishing move. There was a small grin on his face.

Shampoo broke into enthusiastic applause at Ranma victory, which was accepted with a florid bow, much to Akane's consternation. Mousse scowled as he righted himself, fully aware that there would have been no applause if he had somehow managed to win. The fact that he was likewise unlikely to do so did not escape him either.

Despite Mousse's continual efforts to prove his superiority to Ranma, he knew full well that he wasn't quite in the same league as the Japanese boy. Mousse was strong, quick, and skilled enough at his esoteric form to fight the village champion, if not the elders, to a standstill, something almost unheard of for an Amazon male. He also knew that he had never yet achieved a legitimate victory over Ranma, and understood that the reason behind it was that while his own skill was legendary, Ranma's verged on the mythic.

It had been embarrassing to learn that even with a broken arm, Ryoga was capable of fighting him to the point that had required Cologne's intervention, though.

Ranma was mostly oblivious to this as he danced back into position. "'Nother round, Mousse?" He couldn't help the hopeful expression on his face. Mousse wouldn't have been his first choice for a sparring partner, but Ryoga was out of commission, and he didn't really want to fight any of the girls. He had requested a few matches in the hopes that he'd be able to loose himself in them, and forget the events of three days ago, when he had come close to killing both Ukyo and Hiroshi. Surprisingly, it seemed to be working fairly well.

Since that time, he and his companions had been living at the Nekohanten, with greater or lesser degrees of reluctance. None of the new arrivals felt much joy in the arrangement, and Mousse at least echoed their feelings from the other direction. Shampoo seemed happy enough, and had taken every opportunity to show it during his stay. Consequently, the number of superficial injuries he had sustained was somewhat higher than would normally have been expected, even considering the amount of sparring he was doing.

He'd have to talk to Shampoo about that, once he figured out what in the world he'd say to her.

For now, he lost himself in the renewed flurry of combat as he and Mousse began exchanging blows once more.

Akane watched them, her feelings a complicated mess as usual. On the one hand, she was glad that Ranma seemed to be recovering well, although she was certain that if he'd quit being stupid and just _talked_ about it with her, he come out of it faster. On the other hand, his constant proximity to the other girls meant keeping a close watch on him, which was aggravating in the extreme. He'd suffered a number of blows on her behalf as reminders that...

Her mind shied away from that comment instinctively, but it was more a feeble reflex action than anything else. Two years of habitual thinking were proving difficult to break.

...that he shouldn't do that. That he shouldn't let them hang all over him, not when he had _her_ there, perfectly willing and able to listen to his problems and help him through them no matter that he claimed he didn't want to talk about it...

She shook her head. At least she'd managed to keep him from falling into one of his bleak moods. While normally she would have been happy to see Ranma engaging in a bit of introspection, it seemed that his version of such was more akin to a serious bout of self-recrimination than anything else. They weren't suited to him, and went against everything she... ...loved about him. The word floated through her mind, and for once she didn't shy away from it.

She didn't mind Ryoga, complete with chronic depression, as a friend. She was more than a little unwilling to accept either him, or the near-clone that Ranma seemed in constant danger of turning into, as a fiancé.

And on the other hand... She grinned for a moment at the mental image of her holding up a _third_ hand full of conflicting emotions. ...On the other hand, as she watched Ranma once more casually lay Mousse out on the ground, then stop to help slap the blind boy back into consciousness, she couldn't suppress a spike of jealousy toward him.

It had always been like this, of course. Even when they had first met, Ranma had been so fast, so skilled, that Akane had been unable to touch him, short of one of her anger-fueled surprise attacks. And watching him now, she was very conscious of the fact that if Ranma somehow went back in time to fight his past self, his previous incarnation would have been defeated with even greater ease than she had once been.

She wasn't really a _bad_ martial artist, she knew. She'd won enough competitions to know that. She was ridiculously strong, and fast enough to view most people as though they moved in slow motion, and skilled enough to easily defeat dozens of unskilled attackers at once. The Tendo School of Anything Goes Martial Arts didn't give out dan rankings, considering them to be worthless pieces of accreditation. What mattered was how good she was, not what title she held. But she estimated that she'd probably be sixth or seventh dan if it did give out such things.

Ranma could blow up smallish mountains, though. And that was _before_ the bizarre power that this demonic transformation granted him. It didn't seem fair that he received yet another power boost on top of everything else he already possessed.

Her fists clenched tight as she attempted to keep her displeasure from her face. Danger be damned, she hoped that her own transformation came soon. Being possessed couldn't possibly be worse than being useless.

* * *

Ukyo was cooking. This was not in and of itself unusual, since she made her living as a cook, was quite skilled as a cook, and in fact habitually defined her existence as being that of a cook. It was, however, the first time she had done so in several days, and the first time she had ever had the occasion to do so at the Nekohanten.

Currently she was using her small portable grill. It was too small to service anything like a real restaurant crowd, even ones the size of those she usually go in her own tiny restaurant. It was, however, perfectly suitable for her basic needs. On her own insistence, her full-sized grill was being moved from Ucchan's, but would probably not be installed for several days.

Idly, she wondered exactly where they were going to put it. The buildings on either side of the Chinese restaurant had been purchased, she knew, and were already in the process of clearing out their things. The Clothier's to the right had almost completed their move; they'd been paid extra to ensure their speedy departure, so that Tofu could move in his clinic. And new construction was already going up to link the three buildings together.

The small professional center on the other side was going to be converted into a dormitory, she thought. No sense in keeping the 'children' in the command center, where they might be underfoot.

She thrust her spatula under the browning okonomiyaki with something more than the necessary force, causing it to nearly slide off the grill. Yelping, she barely managed to catch it before it hit the ground.

_Close, that. I guess I'm still a bit upset. If only Cologne wouldn't treat us like..._her internal monologue faltered. She wanted to say 'children', but the word that really kept coming to mind was 'soldiers'.

The last three days had certainly begun to reinforce that opinion. Cologne woke all of them at six o'clock, sharp, and expected them to be ready for training fifteen minutes later. Breakfast with the entire group present had been something of a novelty at first, but the old woman's insistence on a kind of peace treaty between the romantic rivals meant that conversation was markedly subdued. Neither she nor Shampoo attempted to sit next to Ranma, even though she almost ached with the proximity. From the yearning look in Shampoo's eyes, the Chinese girl felt the same.

No, Ranma sat next to Akane. And the worst part was, he looked as though he was doing it on instinct, as though that was simply the place where he fit into the world.

She sighed. It was bad enough losing out to Akane, but losing out to Ranma's own nature was nearly intolerable. It implied that the great contest that she'd devoted nearly a year and a half to had never even existed. There was no race to be run, no judges, and certainly no prize.

Of course, the training helped keep her mind off of that. After breakfast, the lot of them would file into one of the back rooms of the restaurant, and would seat themselves inside a series of what she liked to think of as 'mystic circles.' At least, that's what they looked like to her.

Cologne said that the truth was more complex than that, but Ukyo was of the opinion that the old woman would say anything to make her little soldiers hold her in awe.

From then until lunch, training was what Cologne termed 'directed meditation.' Ukyo though that was a very pleasant euphemism. When she though of those words, thoughts sprang to mind of pleasant incense, and a conductor who would gently guide the trainees with practiced words toward the correct state of mind.

She shouldn't have been so surprise the first time, when she had felt Cologne's powerful ki clamp down around her own, forcing her mind and soul into particular patterns. She had fought it instinctively, forcing the matriarch's presence from her mind... only to find Cologne glaring balefully at her from across the room.

"This will only work if you allow it to. I do not have the ability to control your mind, or even enter it against your will. So if you would care to stop wasting all of our time, stop resisting." The old woman's eyes narrowed, and Ukyo could clearly read the thoughts behind the expression. _If you don't, I'll give you a hiding like you've never experienced, girl._

After that, none of them offered more than instinctual resistance, which they quickly stifled. Even Ranma was oddly subdued and compliant throughout the process.

In the last few days, all of them had been brought to the point of feeling the demon-essence inside them. It was... Well, Ukyo wasn't sure what it felt like to the others, but to her it seemed like an iron-hard knot inside her soul. It was perfectly smooth, with neither flaw nor opening, and though it was somehow connected to her, she couldn't for the life of her figure out what to do with it.

Not that any of the others had been having any more luck. Ranma in particular didn't appear to want to have anything to do with attempting to activate the demon-essence within him. His recalcitrance had, so far, cost him one of the allotted 'free times,' normally spent from dinner till bed doing whatever suited their fancy. That time, he'd spent it hauling lumber for the construction workers. While in girl form.

His willingness to try had improved markedly after that.

From lunch to dinner had been spent in martial training. She supposed that the sparring was helpful, and was certainly useful for keeping their minds from wandering to the less pleasant aspects of their residence at the restaurant, but Ukyo wished that Ranma would let it go at that. Instead, he seemed to think that his 'free time' was best spent continuing the sparring sessions. And, since everyone else seemed to like a good show, she was left alone.

Not that she particularly minded, but...

The door opened. Akane entered the room, her face fixed in it's accustomed scowl. Ukyo grinned slightly at the sight. Despite the girl's obvious concern over Ranma, Akane appeared to have been the least affected by all of this. Heck, at times she almost seemed _happy_ to be here. Now, however, was obviously not one of those times.

Akane approached, then hesitantly pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the grill. A few moments passed without either of them saying anything. Ukyo continued her preparations as the silence stretched into the realm of the terminally uncomfortable.

Finally, Akane broke, as Ukyo knew she would. "So... what are you making?" she said, not quite meeting her eyes.

Ukyo replied in the same fashion. "Okonomiyaki."

Akane frowned. "I can see _that._ What kind?"

The chef shrugged as she flipped it over again, the oils in the food sizzling as they touched the hot grill, giving off a delectable and somewhat spicy aroma. "Dunno yet." She looked up and grinned at Akane. "I'm sort of just grabbing ingredients without looking; the ones that feel _right_ to me when I put my hands on them... It's like zen cookery." She laughed at Akane's suddenly concerned expression.

"Um... Ukyo, are you sure about that? I'm told... Well, it's just that people tell me that that's one of the reasons..." Akane's voice trailed off.

"Mm Hmm..." Ukyo nodded, breaking out a jar of sauce without looking at the label. "That's one of the reasons that your cooking ain't so good. One of them." She grinned again as Akane's face once more resolved into a look of anger. "But it's a little different for me. When I try it, they usually come out pretty good. I like to think of it as releasing recipes that have been trapped inside me." She flipped the completed food item off of the burner and onto a plate with one easy motion. "Here, go ahead."

Akane eyed it nervously. She was familiar enough with her own disastrous attempts at 'zen cookery' to be wary of anyone else's. And she wasn't sure that she recognized half of the ingredients. Hesitantly, she cut away a portion of the Okonomiyaki, and lifted it to her mouth.

It was delicious, of course. Ukyo's creations always were. And somehow, that was far more depressing than if she had gotten a mouthful of inedible slime.

"So, how was it?" Ukyo appeared genuinely curious.

Akane swallowed. "Good, I suppose." She was careful to keep the despondent note out of her voice.

"Really? Great! I was a little distracted while I was making it, so I though I might have screwed up a bit. It was a good thing you were around to take the bullet for me."

Akane watched Ukyo incredulously as the other girl began preparing a second okonomiyaki. _She used me as a _guinea pig! _That's... That's... _Her mind warred with itself, her outrage battling the insistent idea that other people's cooking wasn't quite as dangerous as her own.

Finally, she calmed down, without throwing either an insult or a punch. She was actually rather proud of that. "Well, it's not too much of problem." Her hands twitched in her lap. _Just one punch? _She shook off the desire. "Ukyo... I wanted to talk with you a bit."

Ukyo blinked, gave Akane a speculative glance. "Sure. Nothing wrong with that."

* * *

Gray was busy learning all about the world, and the city of Tokyo in particular. Normally such an endeavor would have been accomplished by living in the city, or at least by reading books and periodicals containing the knowledge of people who did. In the interests of expedience, Gray had decided to speed things up a bit.

The hiker barely gave a gasp as he was flung back to the ground. His mind, just recently occupied with thoughts of how nice it was to get away from the urban sprawl for a change, gibbered insensibly, scrambled beyond hope of reclamation by the demon's invasive mental probes. He'd lived in Tokyo all his life, and had been a veritable treasure trove of information about its day-to-day existence.

"A pity you knew nothing about governmental or military workings, though," murmured Gray, wiping his hands across the front of his fog-colored robe. "Just a salaryman. Typical, unfortunately."

His partner, dressed in a robe of shimmering white, stood slightly off to one side, frowning. The consternation on his face was visible even beneath the cowl that shrouded it. "Don't you think that it be better to hold off on killing the natives? You've received some knowledge of the weapons that they possess by now. If they discover what we're doing, and come in force..." His complaint stopped as Gray held up a restraining hand.

"It won't happen." Gray smiled; an easy, pleasant expression. He often smiled, being often pleased by life and the way things worked out in it. "There were some deaths a few days before. Probably committed by that rogue Shandago. But after that, there were no reports of any relevant kind. The deaths have stopped, but there are no reports of monstrous creatures being slain or captured. What does that say to you, junior partner?"

White scowled. He disliked being referred to in that fashion. "That someone is controlling the information sources? If the Shandago were still alive, it wouldn't have stopped feeding. So someone must have kept mention of the creature away from the media, if our own 'sources' hadn't heard of it."

Gray's smile grew wider. "And the reason for this?" He cut off White just as the other demon was about to speak, causing his mood to slip down another notch. "I'd be willing to bet that it's because they're afraid to bring this little war onto an open battleground." He shook his head. "Foolishness. That means that we can do what we wish, as long as there aren't any witnesses." His smile dropped for a moment as he pondered, then resumed. "I believe that it's time we established a base of operations."

"So soon?" The doubt was evident in White's voice, and caused a small chuckle from Gray's direction.

"Absolutely. There's certainly no reason not to, and think of how much more we'll be able to learn once we have access to a full equipment suite." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "I always feel better when I have a command center. It makes the whole endeavor seem so much more... real, don't you think?"

White sighed. There was no denying his senior's intelligence; Gray had a brilliant reputation, and was one of very few Lieutenants that had the authority to implement his own programs without consulting Dis. But the way that the older demon treated the entire business as some sort of game was almost... insulting. "I think that we may attract notice if we simply stroll into town. If there is an organization capable of controlling the information flow, it won't take them long to become suspicious of two foreigners with no papers attempting to purchase the kind of space we'll need."

Gray laughed. "What, you thought I meant in the city itself?" He shook his head. "Of course not. I was thinking, perhaps, one of those." He pointed to the north, where a number of medium sized farms sat, plying their trade in the shadow of the metropolis. "Our 'sources' haven't had much information on them. That indicates that they don't interact much with the inhabitants of the city. It may be possible to take over without anyone becoming informed."

White pursed his lips nervously. "There are a million things that could go wrong with that."

"And it will be ever so much fun dealing with those things, won't it?" Gray laughed again at the expression on his junior partner's face, and began walking toward the north, leaving no footprints behind him.

* * *

Nabiki sat frowning at the computer as she sipped from her diet soda. In the background, the sound of Kasumi vacuuming mingled discordantly with latest hit single from... whomever. She wasn't paying much attention to either. The information that she'd been collecting was coming along nicely; she had a fairly extensive information network to draw on, and was doing so to the fullest extent.

The majority of those she knew woefully misunderstood her, she thought. They believed her to be a petty information broker and supplier; powerful enough in her own circle, but not much of anything as far as the greater world was concerned. People paid her, and she delivered those items of satisfaction as were sought by schoolchildren.

They never seemed to question what she did with the money. Except for a few small indulgences, she never seemed to spend anything. Her abilities at getting others to cover her expenses were legendary. And that was, of course, the secret.

Most people believed that the majority of her cash income was spent on paying for the massive insurance rates that the dojo inflicted on her family. That was true, up to a point. More specifically, her money was largely spent on making sure that her family did _not need to pay insurance._

She had an understanding, conducted through letters and electronic mail, with some of the more powerful figures in organized crime. The understanding went something like this: My family and I are off limits. I know who you are, and where you live, and I am not bound by the same rules that the police are. If you cross my boundaries, I can send Ranma and company to your doorstep.

_I don't think that he ever figured out how many of those 'muggers' were actually Yakuza enforcers..._ she thought, taking another sip. _They learned their lesson pretty quick, though._ She smiled. If it weren't for Ranma dropping into her life, she probably _would_ still be a petty information broker. Being bright and resourceful were all well and good, but if one wanted to compete with giants, one needed big rocks.

Her smile melted away, replaced again by a frustrated scowl. That brought her to her current problems, actually. The first was aggravating, but not insurmountable: While she had a pretty good idea by this time about who in Nerima was beholden to these 'Guardians,' she had very little ability to trace their activities outside the city, and particularly outside the country. She could always attempt to activate some of her foreign assets, but that was risky. They weren't bound to her network the way the locals were, which meant that they would require payment, probably in the form of the ubiquitous 'favor.' Favors could get awfully pricey.

Still, she could do it. But that ran her straight up the nose of the second problem: Why?

She'd begun this attempt to uncover the mysteries surrounding Nerima with enthusiasm, only to find it taper off even as she reached a genuine body of information. What good could it do her? Blackmail was out of the question; they'd amply demonstrated their ability to bend the media to their own ends, and if she even tried... Her frown deepened. Ranma and his ridiculously powerful friends had been her trump card for some time now, but even discounting the fact that they now appeared to working for these 'Guardians'... She sighed. It was doubtful that Cologne was the only impossibly deadly weapon they could field in response. She might even be enough by herself.

The dangers obviously outweighed any possible reward. And yet... Curiosity. A frivolous, wasteful emotion, but that was what it ultimately came down to. She wanted to find out _who_ was behind this, and _why_ they had decided to target her baby sister.

_Well, maybe not just curiosity,_ she thought, as the surge of animosity ran through her. Something about this whole 'secret society in charge of saving the world' explanation just rang a bit false with her, and she wasn't about to let her own flesh and blood swim in untested waters. Especially when the swimmer was Akane.

The sound of the vacuum silenced for a moment, followed by a knock on the door. "Nabiki? May I come in?" Kasumi's voice was quiet and polite, as always. _It'd probably take a lot more than ghosts and demons to change that, _thought Nabiki.

"Oh, sure. Come on in." Nabiki fiddled idly with the mouse for a few moments, then dropped it with a sigh as Kasumi entered, dragging the vacuum behind her. The older Tendo daughter paused briefly, looking at Nabiki with some concern.

"Nabiki, are you alright? The last few days have been tough on everyone, I know. And you've hardly left your room..." Her eyes focused on the screen. "What is it you've been working on up here?"

Nabiki shrugged. "Oh, I'm fine. Just dandy. I've been digging up the local structure of these 'Guardians' for a couple of days now, and just now realized that it might have been wasted effort. That's all." She gave a minute snort of disdain. "I don't trust them. Maybe I'm crazy, but what I've heard of them just seems to be too mythic for real life."

Kasumi nodded. "I quite agree with you, I think." She reached down for the electrical socket, and plugged in the vacuum. She was about to begin cleaning when Nabiki stopped her by the simple expedient of grabbing her wrist. The middle daughter's face suddenly bore a curious expression.

"You agree with me? Why?"

Kasumi gave one of her trademark tiny smiles. "Well, I hardly think that inflicting innocent children with such horrible fates would be the work of the good people. And even more than that..." She sighed, the smile dropping away. "An organization like this could have done so much good in the world, don't you think? Especially having existed for so long. And yet, they've done nothing to help feed the hungry or protect the helpless." She shook her head. "They're obviously dedicated to their goal, but dedication is only a virtue when it does not come at the expense of what is right." The smile returned, although somewhat more wan than before.

Nabiki stared at her sister blankly for a few moments. She wasn't used to hearing such cogent analysis from her sister, whom she frankly thought of as being a bit on the dim side. "Right..." she said, slowly. "So, given that these 'Guardians' may not, in fact, have our best interests in mind... What do we do about it?"

Kasumi shrugged. "Don't you usually... ah, 'persuade' people by..." She waved a hand vaguely. "...well, by threatening to..." She trailed off.

The younger sister grinned. "It's called blackmail, sis. And yes, I do. But the biggest problem with that, is that I can't think of anyone who the guardians would give a damn about if they knew."

Kasumi seemed to ponder this for a moment, and then shrugged again. "Not anyone? Oh dear..." She switched on the vacuum, and began cleaning the room; slow, even sweeps that left not so much as a square inch of the room untouched. Her voice rose slightly in order to speak over the noise. "Well, maybe you'll just have to look further abroad."

Nabiki nodded absently, concentrating on the screen again. After a while Kasumi finished with the carpet and exited the room, leaving Nabiki alone with her thoughts once again.

_Further abroad..._

Her face broke out in a sudden grin. Perhaps there _was_ a group that the Guardians would care about if they were to gain a list of their operatives... And it wouldn't make her a traitor, not _per se_, not as long as she didn't have to actually give up the info. The threat itself didn't tarnish her...

She suppressed a small laugh. All she had to do now was figure out a way to contact them.

* * *

Ukyo winced as the door slammed shut behind Akane, almost bouncing off of its runners from the force behind it. While she was still pretty sure that Cologne wouldn't make any of them responsible for repairs to the place, she didn't want to test the theory by inflicting too much property damage.

The conversation between her and Akane had not gone well.

At first, it was hesitant and nervous, as most conversations between her and the Tendo girl were these days. After a bit of initial probing, Akane had finally confessed that she wanted to talk about their bindings. Ukyo didn't, but had acquiesced regardless.

Then Akane had begun pouring out her usual slew of vacillating, conflicting viewpoints on the issue. About how awful Ranchan was taking it, and how she felt sorry for him, but how he obviously wasn't working hard enough to bring it under control. About how she herself was actually looking forward to her own transformation, regardless of what it did to her, and it couldn't possibly be entirely bad, could it? After all, it had made Ranma finally express himself toward her....

There had been a rather long pause at that point, as both of them remembered the public kiss that had taken place between the Changed Ranma and Akane three days previous.

Akane's face had reddened in embarrassment as she attempted to claim that she hadn't meant _that_, of course. Ukyo had asked what she had meant, then.

And from their negotiations had broken down entirely.

Ukyo shook her head. She wasn't proud, really of the things that she had said. Intimating that Akane was an actual failure as a fiancée for not supporting her partner through this time was probably a bit harsh, even if there was some truth to it. But _dammit_ that girl was infuriating.

Her hand tightened around the haft of her cooking spatula. Everything that she wanted, Akane possessed without thought of effort. And worse, she didn't even seem to want what she had. Akane was going to marry Ranma someday, Ukyo knew, unless something truly bizarre happened. That was painful enough. But it might be a bit less so if the other girl would start acting like she had won something worth the contest.

Ranma had kissed Akane.

She'd seen the picture, of course. Ranma, curled up in Akane's lap, in the full throws of the Nekoken, kissing her gently. It somehow didn't have the same impact as seeing him pull her to him like a character out of a cheap romace novel...

She grimaced. That wasn't an image she really wanted to think about.

Ranma had kissed Akane, while Changed. He had called her 'beloved.'

That was something to think about, wasn't it? It implied that Ranma, even while changed, was still himself, somehow. At the very least, it seemed as though whatever he was while Changed possessed the same memories, and the likes and dislikes. He did still appear to love Akane, after all. And he appeared to think of Ukyo, dear sweet Ukyo, as his 'best friend.'

_Damn him,_ she thought.

But that was fairly disturbing. Because all of that meant that if Changed Ranma and normal Ranma were the same person, however twisted, there was some part of him that was capable of torturing friends to death, as he had almost done. Capable of coming very close to killing her, in fact.

She attempted to shake off the disturbing line of thoughts, and came close to tipping the jar of seaweed over onto the grill. Pausing to right it, she began repeating to herself what had lately become almost a mantra.

_It's not him, not really. It's not how he'd really act. Even if they _are_ the same person, they're two different faces. The same person, but different sides. Once he learns to take control of it, it'll be different. He'll learn; he always does..._

She idly flipped over the Okonomiyaki, noting with some satisfaction the perfect fried crispness of the side she had just completed.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment she stood frozen, staring at the grill. _Oh wow..._ she thought. _Is it really that simple? _

* * *

Once again, Ranma threw Mousse to the ground. This time, it took rather longer for the Chinese boy to get up. He groaned slightly, wiped some of the dirt from his face with the sleeve of his robe, and levered himself back into a standing position. It was obvious that he was tired, and in some amount of pain from the beatings that Ranma had been giving him. Mousse glared as his opponent danced back into position.

"C'mon, Mousse, you're not done yet, are ya?" Ranma too appeared to be suffering some ill effects from the extended melee. He'd not yet been struck, but a pair of rips across the chest of his shirt attested to the fact that some of Mousse's attacks had been close calls.

Mousse grunted as he righted himself. "Oh no, not yet, Saotome." He grinned, hidden by the sleeve of his robe. There was still one trick he had left, one that he'd been saving for just this moment. He lowered his hand, and took up a combat stance once more.

From the sidelines, Shampoo groaned. "Ahh, stupid Mousse! You no can beat Ranma! He show you many-many times already, yes? So often, and still you know learn..." She shook her head sadly.

Mousse's eyes narrowed at her comments. _Damn you, Saotome. If it weren't for you, she'd be singing _my_ praises. _He remained silent, however, and simply launched into his usual routine of attacks.

Only seconds later, it was already clear that his opponent was growing bored with him. Mousse hadn't bothered to introduce any innovations into his attack pattern, and Ranma had already defeated several sequences like this. Impatience was already beginning to show on his face. _Perfect._

"So, Saotome," said, Mousse, his voice deliberately casual. "I hear some fairly interesting stories about what happened a few days ago." He was rewarded with a flash of irritation in Ranma's eyes, and a sudden spike of anger in his aura.

"Don't wanna talk about it, Mousse," growled Ranma, effortlessly deflecting a series of strikes from a previously concealed tetsubo.

"So sorry. Still, some of those stories have really captured my attention. I was hoping that perhaps you could shed some light on them..." Mousse barely managed to dodge a vicious roundhouse kick as a look of unadulterated rage came over Ranma's face.

"I told you to shut up, duck-boy!" Ranma's moves were becoming more erratic, the way they always did when he was foolish enough to allow his emotions to the fore.

_Now._

"I hear that you kissed Akane in public."

Ranma skidded to a halt in the middle of an attack sequence, an incredulous expression shooting across his face. Immediately, Mousse responded, catching Ranma a blow across the face with a staff that had appeared as if from nowhere, knocking him to the ground.

"Hmmph." Mousse smiled as he brought the tip of his staff around to rest at Ranma's throat. "It looks like I win this round." He turned toward the audience, and gave a bow that was at least the equal of Ranma's own theatrical gestures. After a few moments, he straightened, once it was clear that no applause was forthcoming.

Shampoo sniffed disdainfully. "Was dirty trick. No was real win. Never can beat him in fair fight." With a final, contemptuous toss of her hair, she turned her back, leaving a stricken Mousse behind her.

Ryoga shook his head. He agreed with Shampoo, if it came to that, having been victim to similar ploys at Ranma's hands once too often. Still, he wouldn't have been that harsh to Mousse. "Eh, it was alright. It'll only work on him once though, so be careful not to try it again."

Mousse simply stood there, trying hard to blink back tears that were even now beginning to form behind his coke-bottle glasses. _That's not fair...If he'd beaten me the same way, she'd have applauded him. _His teeth ground together almost audibly. _Even my victories turn to ash with you around, Saotome. _His bitter musings were cut short as Ranma grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around to face him.

"Hey! Don't try to get out of what you were talkin' about. Is _that_ really what they're talkin' about around here lately?" Ranma's appeared to have either ignored or forgotten the lost match already. It took Mousse a few moments to remember what he was talking about.

"Hmm? Oh, right. Listen Saotome, everyone and their cousin in this insane town have seen you fight demons before now. And half of them were expecting you to go crazy and start beating seven kinds of hell out of your friends anyway..." He smirked as Ranma's face flushed. "But you kissing Akane... Calling her 'beloved.'" He chuckled. "Oh, that's garnered a few comments all right."

Ranma sputtered for a moment, then threw his hands up into the air and walked away. Mousse grinned. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad day after all. He turned back toward were Shampoo and Ryoga were standing, only to find Ryoga inching away nervously from a trembling Shampoo.

Suddenly concerned, he rushed to her side. "Shampoo, what's wrong?"

She was silent, save for the sounds of choked back weeping.

He tried again. "Darling, if that bastard Saotome's behavior is upsetting you, I'd be more than happy to..." His monologue was cut off by a forceful backhand, which sent him sprawling to the ground. From that low vantage, he could see her as she turned a furious gaze upon him.

"Idiot," she hissed. "I not think about what he do with her... Almost forget what I hear until you bring up again. You hate Shampoo so much, you want torture her?" Tears welled up in her eyes, and were threatening at any moment to cascade down her face.

"No! I...I'd never hate you, my love! I never thought that..."

She wiped one sleeve clumsily across her face. "You never think. Now I go. Leave alone."

Helplessly, he watched her leave.

* * *

Gray and White reached the farm before sunset had quite begun, and were surveying their options. Gray was quite pleased with the location's potential as a command center.

"Hmm. Very nice. It's large, but not unwieldy, and has ample storage space for equipment. There appear to be few hands, so we won't have to dispose of too many... And it appears to specialize in an esoteric product as well. I can't imagine that they get many prospective customers here... War Beasts like these are something of a specialist commodity. What did the sign say they were called again?"

"Sumo Pigs, sir," muttered White. He'd never cared for War Beasts, and these ones had looked back at him with undisguised loathing. He hoped he could convince his senior partner to simply do away with them once they had finished clearing out the residents, but thought the prospect unlikely.

"Odd... According to the data we've received, Pigs are supposed to fairly sedentary food animals. Certainly nothing like these behemoths..." Gray made a vague gesture toward a three ton swine who was staring bloody murder at the two of them. "Still, live and learn."

His small grin became a genuine broad smile as the front door opened, revealing an old man in farmer's overalls, carrying a shotgun in one hand. Despite his age, the sharp look he gave the two of them suggested that he still retained the keen vision of youth. "Okay, you two. I don't know what you're doing here, dressed up like that, and I'm not sure I want to. You'd best just get out of here, before I have to protect my property." He punctuated that statement with the unambiguous sound of a shotgun cocking.

Gray's smile grew fractionally wider. "Dear sir... Mr. Unyruu, I believe. I think that you may be jumping to conclusions. My partner, Mr. White and I, are here solely for business purposes." He waved a hand at the fine porcine stock displayed in the yards. "We were thinking of making a purchase, actually."

Unryuu lowered his shotgun fractionally. He still had a bad feeling about this... But Sumo Pigs weren't in the kind of demand nowadays that he could afford to pass up an offer, especially one backed, apparently, by American currency. From the corner of his eye, he saw Akari watching from the window. With one hand, he waved her away. "Well, if you say so. Might I ask what you plan on doing with your purchase? Not usually a lot of call for Sumo Pigs from you Americans... You are American's right? Mr. White, Mr...." His voice trailed off as he waited for the broadly grinning robed man to identify himself.

"Gray," the man finished, in polite tones. "And despite our obvious foreignness, we have considerably interest in this country, and in this very farm. You'd be selling us short if you thought we were not keenly interested in what we might gain here."

_He didn't answer my questions. I don't like this..._ "Well, how many do you plan on purchasing?" _There, simple question._

Mr. Gray tapped his chin with a single, slender digit. "Just one, I think."

Mr. White groaned, as though exasperated, and said something to the other man in a harsh, crackling language. Mr. Gray nodded sadly, and replied. "I suppose you're right. This dialogue has passed the point of usefulness." He raised his hand toward Unryuu.

The old man was faster. Almost instantly, the shotgun was leveled toward Mr. Gray's face. "I knew you was up to something rotten. Now I'm going to give you to the count of three to start backing off of my property. One... Two..."

Mr. Gray appeared to ignore him. Instead, he nonchalantly waved his hand, and Unryuu felt the gun wrenched from his grasp. He watched in a kind of numb horror as the gun folded in on itself; the metal twisted and split, the wooden stock splintered, and the 12-gauge shells finally exploded under the pressure. None of the shot escaped the rapidly compacting sphere of metal and wood.

The man in gray dropped his hand, and the twisted ball dropped to the ground with an audible thump. "It would take less effort, and give me rather more pleasure to do the same to you, friend," said Gray conversationally. "I suggest you not fight it. Oh..." His eyes flickered up towards the window where Akari was already moving. Mere inches away from the telephone, she dropped to the floor, bound by invisible chains. "Of course, that's the other thing I'd rather you not do. Silly me for forgetting."

His gaze focused once more on Unryuu. "Now, I suggest you invite us inside, hmm?"

The old man nodded weakly, and, followed closely by the two invaders, went to open the door.

Author's Notes: I hereby entitle this the chapter of DOOM. It was mostly interlude, but I thought it was painfully awkward in parts. Oh well. I'll have to heavily rewrite it, like the last one, but since it was already a week late, I figured I'd just post it for the benefit of my two or three 'fans.'

Next Chapter... Drugged food, demonic transformations, and grievous bodily harm!

Review please, or better yet, e-mail me. 


End file.
